


In My City

by regardinglove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Mob, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Romance, Romeo and Juliet AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regardinglove/pseuds/regardinglove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romeo and Juliet Destiel AU: The Novaks and the Winchesters have been sworn enemies for as long as anyone can remember. Novaks do not interact with Winchesters unless they want an untimely death, and vice versa. Dean Winchester has always had a hatred for the Novaks after they killed his mother three years ago, and would never hesitate to take one of them down. That is, until Dean meets Castiel Novak in a crowded bar and falls for him immediately. In a story of love, feud, hatred, and sacrifice, can the love story of Cas and Dean survive the family lines?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a Destiel Romeo and Juliet inspired AU, and because of the nature of the story there could be graphic depictions of violence and/or minor/major character death that could be triggering [this is a Romeo and Juliet AU after all, but I haven't decided how close to the original story I'm keeping it yet]. If you are affected by anything related to weaponry, mutilation, or torture, I suggest you do not read this work. 
> 
> If you are reading along with this story though, I welcome you! This is my first multichaptered fic that I know I will finish, so it is exciting to put it out there for the world to read. I appreciate constructive criticism because I'm new to the world of fanfiction. This is an exciting new world for me and I am glad to learn from other fic writers and readers like you. 
> 
> And with that, I hope you enjoy this tale.

The lights of the highway fly past Dean’s eyes as he races his precious Impala down the road, not paying attention to his speed. He hears Sam’s voice like a familiar babble in his ears but doesn’t decipher any of the words. All Dean can comprehend is the phrase in his mind that is playing like a broken record, the words appearing across his vision like a banner. _I messed up, I messed up, oh God above, how did I mess up?_    
  

It had been a simple order, and Dean is sure as hell good at taking orders. Michael Novak is giving the Winchester family more trouble than he is worth so John Winchester, head of the “family business,” gave the command to take him out. It is a long time coming for the Novak; he had been threatening the Winchesters for ages and frankly everyone is fed up with his games. It is about time he is put in his place, and Dean is the mob’s best hitman. He is supposedly perfect for the job.  
    

That is, he is supposed to be. But that all changed when he rolled up to the Novak mansion and was met by the entire family standing out front, guns locked and loaded. Somehow the news that the Winchesters were in town got to the family, and it was seven Novaks to the two Winchesters. Outnumbered, the boys had no choice but to regroup and return to the family headquarters with clean hands, defeated, and Dean couldn’t deal with it. He never left a task unfinished, ever. He should’ve just gone for it, he should’ve-  
    

“Dean, are you even listening to me at all?”    

Dean breaks out of his trance and flicks a quick glance over to his brother. Sam has one hand propped up against the car door and is giving his brother quite the glare.  
“Sorry, man. I got distracted. What were you saying?”  
    

Sam huffs and turns away to stare out the side window. “I was saying you shouldn’t beat yourself up over this. We weren’t expecting them to know; Dad will understand. And don’t say you’re not, because I see the guilt in your face.”  
  

Dean grips the wheel tighter, knowing Sam is only saying empty words. There is a time when their father would have understood, would have told Dean that he had nothing to worry about and that he would “get it right next time,” but that man isn’t around anymore. Long gone is the father they knew and loved; only an angry shell of the man he once was exists in his place. Ever since the Winchesters lost their mother to a shooting three years ago, he hadn’t been the same since. When Mary died, so did John on the inside.  
  

Dean cringes when he imagines the hell that is awaiting him at home when he tells John about the failed mission, that Michael is still alive in the world. It will be a war of hateful words, maybe some punches if Dean feels like defending himself today, and that would be if his father is feeling generous. The only thing that calms Dean is the city lights. The Chicago skyline gleams beautifully in the midnight sky, the stars an iridescent white against the blackness of the night. He smiles as he approaches the city, letting his anxieties fade for the drive in, the skyscrapers making him feel like an ant. And as he cruises his Impala through the city streets, he forgets about the fight that is only minutes away at home.  
    

Then, in a moment of spontaneity, Dean decides his fight with John can wait until morning. This city is too beautiful tonight, and he isn’t ready to leave the gorgeous downtown for the slums of his family home. Dean smiles as he swerves the car across three lanes of traffic, making a beeline for a nightclub that is bouncing with activity.  
    

“Dean, what the hell?” Sam asks with a slight laugh as he takes in the street.  
    

“Why don’t we live a little tonight, Sammy?” Dean asks with a grin. “You really don’t get out enough for a twenty-something.”  
    

“Dad is going to kill us, you know,” Sam says with a sigh, but doesn’t protest as he follows Dean out of the car and up the street.  
    

The two brothers quickly flash their IDs at the bouncer as they walk into the building, the hypnotic music already reaching their ears from the doorway, and Dean’s eyes automatically widen when he takes the place in.  
    

Bodies are everywhere, packing the tight space to a maximum. There is hardly any room to navigate through the crowd, and if you try it seems someone will just pull you into a dance without even asking. People are laughing with their drinks, grinding and dancing against one another sensually; there are bartenders slinging drinks down the counter to a group of scantily clad men and women, and smoke billows from the bar in a thick fog. It is oh so entrancing, and Dean can’t look away.  
    

“Sam, are you seeing this?” Dean turns around, but his brother has already left his side. Sam is chatting up a blonde across the room, one who looks slightly familiar. Seeing Sam laugh at something the girl says already makes Dean think his little detour home is worth it. Sam hardly ever laughs anymore; he prefers to keep a tough exterior ,now that he is a hitman like Dean, not letting any emotion show. But Dean knows with every kill, no matter how heinous the target, the carefree brother he loves slips farther and farther away.  
    

Dean shakes his head, trying to dispel the dark mood that overtook him. He is here to have some fun, right? He fights his way through the packed bodies, ignoring the hands that are grabbing him as he walks. His eyes are glued to the bar, his favorite drink calling him from behind the counter. Dean knows if he is going to be dealing with John in the near future, he would want to be drunk as hell.  
    

He almost makes it to his beloved haven of stupor, but something catches his attention in the distance. Dean stops in the midst of the dancing bodies, not even caring that sweaty strangers are grinding him in all the wrong places. Because across the room Dean is suddenly mesmerized. Two bright blue eyes glow in the distance, framed by dark lashes.  
    

And they are looking right at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romeo and Juliet Destiel AU: The Novaks and the Winchesters have been sworn enemies for as long as anyone can remember. Novaks do not interact with Winchesters unless they want an untimely death, and vice versa. Dean Winchester has always had a hatred for the Novaks after they killed his mother three years ago, and would never hesitate to take one of them down. That is, until Dean meets Castiel Novak in a crowded bar and falls for him immediately. In a story of love, feud, hatred, and sacrifice, can the love story of Cas and Dean survive the family lines?

“C’mon, Cassie! Drink a little! Have some fun!” 

Castiel looks up from the book he is reading to glare at his brother. Gabriel is lounging casually against the bar counter, taking slow drags from his cigarette. He blows a puff of smoke into the air as he turns towards his brother, giving him a small smirk. 

“For the last time Gabe,” Castiel mutters, not looking up from his book, “I’m only here because you needed a sober driver. You go have fun; I will be around to drag your drunk ass home later.” 

“And what fun is it getting drunk alone?” Gabriel whines while he flags down the bartender, ordering two shots of vodka for them. “Please, Cassie? Just one drink the take the edge off is all I ask. For me?” 

Castiel sighs. If it would get Gabe off his back, fine; he would do it. Reluctantly Castiel takes the small shot glass off the counter and chugs it in one gulp. He noticeably winces as the alcohol slides down, stinging his throat and chest while he coughs. 

“Are you happy?” Castiel gets out between wheezes, shoving the empty glass back at him. “Will you please leave me alone now?” 

“What has gotten you all broody?” Gabe asks with a smirk.  “I’m not being broody,” Castiel spits back. “You’re just being horribly irritating. I almost wish I was back at the house with Michael right now.”

Gabriel leans away from Castiel, a sarcastic smile plastered to his face. “Why, I’m simply offended! Really? I’m being so annoying that you would rather have Michael, the self-righteous prick’s company over mine?”

That breaks him. Cas laughs softly, his sour mood receding for a second. “Okay, fine. I guess I can’t resort to an insult that big,” he says with a grin, “but it is close!” 

Gabriel laughs along with his brother. “Whatever,” he replies. “While you’re here reading a book, I’m going to find someone more interesting than you. Adios, brother.”

And with that, Castiel is alone as one can be in a crowded club. 

With a sigh, he turns back to the book in his grip. It is a favorite of his, one he has read many times before. The Great Gatsby feels like a rock in his palm as he turns the pages, knowing he is once again nearing the ending he always hated. It happens every time, but Castiel always hopes the ending will miraculously shift, that Gatsby would not end up dead in the water but would instead get the happy ending he always deserved. Of course that doesn’t happen, you can’t change the printed word, but Castiel is always one for optimism. 

When he finishes and Gatsby is once again dead as a doornail, Castiel pushes the book aside and looks around the room. Are these people that different from the ones in Gatsby’s life, living off ecstasy and cheap alcohol to numb themselves to the reality of life? Is this not just one big party, run by an invisible host like Gatsby himself?

He would have pondered farther, but suddenly something catches his attention across the room. Two sparks of bright emerald glow in the distance, glimmering when the strobe lights reflect against them. They remind Castiel of the green light on Daisy Buchanan’s dock, pulling him in like the light did to Gatsby. He quickly realizes they are eyes, and they are attached to the most beautiful person Castiel has ever lay a gaze on.

A man that looks like a Greek god stands in the crowd, his bright green gaze scanning the bar like it is Nirvana. His shirt is pulled tight around his body, revealing his toned muscles, and a ragged leather jacket is slung around his shoulders. He walks like a man who has purpose, someone who is confident in himself. It takes all Castiel had not to drool and stare.

He takes all of the man in with a dazed gaze, and doesn’t even realize those green eyes are moving forward until they are feet away, moving in his direction.

He is flustered, that is to say the least; Castiel’s family never lets him go out and see the world, so his social skills are “a bit rusty”. Cas’ father told him once that his captivity is for his own good, but he knows the real reason. He has never fit in with his family, the only Novak who can’t shoot a gun for his life, the only Novak who doesn’t have blood on his hands, the only Novak who prefers working for the college library instead of working for the family mob. That makes him different, and different equates to dangerous in the Novak household. Therefore he is held under strict orders. Only leaving the house for class and work, and never, ever is he to go out to bars and parties, are only a few of the many rules he has to follow. The only reason he is out tonight is because Gabriel snuck him out, and even that is a risk. Castiel often thought that he is like Rapunzel in a tower, locked up and only let out for air. 

He is so caught up in these thoughts that he doesn’t realize that the attractive man from across the bar is now standing right in front of him, eyeing him with a wolfish grin.   “Hey there,” the man says in a deep voice that makes Castiel jump from his seat.

“Ah…” Castiel stutters, avoiding looking the man directly in the eye. “Can I help you?” 

The man chuckles lightly and takes a seat next to Castiel, grinning at him widely. “Yeah, you can help me. What is it going to take for you to let me buy you a drink tonight?”

Castiel eyes the man suspiciously, sure that this must be some type of mistake. He isn’t the type of guy most women, or men in this case, flock to in a crowded bar. He is the type of guys old ladies looked to for assistance, or whom children trusted when they were lost. He isn’t the type to be pursued by a gorgeous man in a too-tight tank top, that is for sure. 

He flounders about, not exactly sure how to respond to the question. “Is…that a flirtation?” Castiel hedges, already wanting to hit himself when the words come out. This guy must think he is socially inept or something, and he wouldn’t be too far off. 

The man cackles in a low tone, and Castiel feels a shiver go through his body. “I don’t know, is it working? Can I buy you a beer or what?”

He didn’t get to answer though before the man is flagging down the bartender, ordering two beers for them and a shot of tequila for himself. He watches as the bartender slings the alcohol down the counter, staring in awe as the man catches both the beers in one hand and his shot glass in the other. 

The man turns to Castiel and hands him the drink with a tepid smile. “Hope you like Budweiser.” 

“Thank you…”  “-Dean,” the man finishes. “Dean Winchester.”

Castiel freezes, the bottle of golden liquid suspended halfway to his lips. A Winchester? Did the universe have something against him? Why is this beautiful man a Winchester and not an Adams or a Johnson? Why is life so unfair? 

“So, are you going to give me your name now or just leave me hanging?” Dean asks, popping the cap off of the beer bottle in one click. “Looks like you could use a little bit of social guidance, if you ask me.”

Castiel blushes deeply, taking in those teasing green eyes. “My name is Castiel…” he stalls, “…Milton. Castiel Milton.” 

He looks at Dean with a nervous glance, hoping he doesn’t notice his hesitation about the fake name. He decides very quickly that the odds of seeing the Winchester again are slim, and he really needs one night to not be Castiel Novak, prisoner of the house. So what if he used a fake name for a night? 

“Castiel, huh?” Dean asks, that small smile never leaving his face. “Well Cas, that is quite the name you’ve got there. How did your parents come up with that one?”

Castiel grins at the little nickname Dean has given him, already feeling more comfortable. He takes a swig of his drink before he answers, leaning back in his chair. “I wish I knew, but would you believe that my name isn’t the strangest in the family?” 

“Well I find that hard to believe,” Dean smirks, “unless you have a sister name Uhura. Doesn’t get much weirder than that. I mean the girl can kick some major ass, but-“

“Wait wait wait,” Cas interrupts the Winchester, a warm feeling rising in him. “Don’t tell me you like Star Trek?” 

Dean leans closer, the smell of hard liquor on his breath. “I may be the biggest geek you’ve ever met, but don’t tell anyone. I also have an encyclopedic knowledge on Game of Thrones, but my brother would tease me so hard if he knew about that talent.”

That settles it. Cas feels a warm feeling bubbling up in his stomach, making his heart beat faster and his mind race. Cas told himself he would let Dean go after tonight, but he can’t walk away now. No, it is too late for that. He is already falling.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean isn’t going to lie, he is enjoying his time with Cas more than he anticipated. After he gets a few more beers in the guy he is happy to see Cas light up with expression, coming forward with details about his life and family. Cas even tells a story involving his brother and a very unfortunate rabbit that has Dean laughing like a hyena, getting a strange look from the bartender across the way. All in all, Dean is actually enjoying himself for the first time in…how many years? Dean can’t remember. 

That is, he is enjoying himself until a very unwelcome face appears on the stage. 

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mutters, gripping his empty shot glass a little more tightly. 

“What’s wrong?” Cas asks innocently, cracking open his third beer of the night. 

Dean just shakes his head and points to the stage where they were about to start karaoke night. Of course Gabriel Novak has to be here, the one place Dean went to get away from his work. The man is clearly drunk out of his mind, and is holding onto the mic stand for support. Seconds later the instrumental track to ‘One Night Only’ starts blasting through the club, and Dean’s ears are assaulted by Gabriel’s nasally singing. 

“Let’s just say I would rather be torn apart by lions than have to deal with that guy,” Dean replies, hearing the distaste in his tone. 

Cas tilts his head and gives Dean a confused look, Dean feeling very embarrassed when he feels his heart speed up with the glance. “I’m assuming you two don’t get along then?”

Dean laughs harshly. “More like we hate each others guts more than anything else in this world, if that says anything.” 

Cas is about to respond, but Gabriel’s falsetto is suddenly the loudest thing in the room. Dean cringes as he flags down the bartender once more, quickly retrieving a pen and napkin. 

“Look, I wish I could stay around longer, but I will punch him if I do. But…” Dean hesitates, “I would love to see you again?” 

The boy with the blue eyes glances up at him with a piercing stare. “You wish to see me again?” 

Dean scribbles his phone number down on the napkin and places it in the other man’s palm. “If you don’t mind, that is.” 

Cas smiles down at the number in his hand and says very quietly “Yes Dean, I would love that very much.” 

He looks up into Cas’ eyes and grins back with pure elation. “Then I’ll be looking forward to your call.” 

With one last wave at the blue eyed angel that already has his heart racing, Dean leaves to find his brother. 

“Sam!” Dean calls when he spots his brother across the way. He is leaning against the club wall with a pure look of distain on his face, his mouth curled into a tight lipped grimace. 

“…Sammy? What’s wrong?” 

“Did I just see you talking with a Novak?” Sam asks calmly. He looks up at Dean with pure smoldering fire in his eyes, the rage clearly coming to surface. 

“What the hell are you talking about, Sam?” Dean asks. “I was talking to that guy over there.” 

He points out Cas across the way to his brother, who is reclining back casually in his chair. “His name is Castiel Milton, a student over at UIC. What’s wrong?”

“Dean,” Sam says sadly. “Castiel Milton doesn’t exist, but Castiel Novak does. And you are looking right at him.”

******

_A Novak? A freaking Novak? Why’d he have to be a Novak of all people?_

Dean can’t quiet the raging thoughts in his mind as he speeds through the city streets, ignoring any and all traffic lights and signs in his way. He is beyond livid. A fake name? That is the thing he would pull, not something a guy like Cas would ever do. It seemed off somehow. Is it all a ploy then? Is Cas working with the Novaks? Is he supposed to lure Dean into his house, make him feel like he cared, only to throw him to the dogs? It makes his stomach turn just thinking about it, and he isn’t going to rest until he got some answers. 

Over the course of the next few days, Dean does his research. His confrontation with John goes better than ever expected, his father giving him a few days off to regroup before he sends Dean out again to finish the job. It is the most he could ask for from his father, and the extra time gives him opportunity to dig up dirt on that Castiel. 

That is, if there is anything to be found out about the Novak. After five days of nonstop research Dean is still no closer to knowing anything about the man than he is before. It is like Cas is the Novak’s hidden weapon, kept under lock and key in their secret crypts. No birth dates, no personal records, no history to be found. Is is as if the man Dean met at the bar is a total ghost. 

Finally, Dean brings in the bigs guns and calls up the best hacker he knows, but even her efforts are wasted. 

“I really don’t know what to say, Winchester,” Charlie says solemnly, after hours of illegal hacking. “Even I can’t find those who don’t wish to be found.” 

He grunts and turns to the green letters and numbers glowing on her screen. “Are you really sure there is nothing? Nothing at all?” 

“I’m telling you, it’s like he doesn’t even exist. However-“ she starts, hitting a few keys on the board, “-there is an article about a Jimmy Novak working at the UIC Library. Employee of the year or something nerdy like that. Think this is your guy?”

Dean sighs heavily. It isn’t much of a lead, but it is all he has. And that is what lands him at that library on a cold November morning, stalking the stacks of books for any sign of Jimmy or Castiel, whatever the hell his real name is. He is unfruitful for hours on end and he is about to give up the search, until a familiar figure appears behind the circulation desk. 

It is definitely Cas, that’s for sure. The tousled man he met at the bar is now standing behind a stack of books, staring at the names on the spines. He has a lanyard slung around his neck that says ‘Hi my name is: Jimmy’ and is wearing a pair of black rimmed glasses that makes his blue eyes pop. And don’t get him started on that tight plaid shirt-

No, Dean won’t allow himself to still be attracted to this man. He lied about his name, so what else did he lie about? And above all, he is a Novak. He couldn’t be this attracted to someone who is from enemy territory, could he? 

But he doesn’t get to ponder this any longer before the man sees him standing awkwardly in the stacks. 

“…Dean?” Cas asks hesitantly, coming out from behind the desk to approach the wayward Winchester. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing Castiel Milton. Or is it Castiel Novak? Or James Novak?”

Cas cringes. “I worried you would figure that out, but I didn’t think it would matter.”

Dean huffs out a breath in annoyance. “Wouldn’t matter? Giving out a fake name is a pretty big deal, Cas!”

The other man looks down at his shoes and mutters “…I didn’t think it is a big deal because I never planned on seeing you again.”

Ouch. Dean can’t hide how much that stung. So it is true then; Dean looked into things that were not there. It is fine though; he will get over it eventually. Nevermind that Cas is all he could think about for days. Forget that he hasn’t been attracted to anyone, man or woman, like this in ages and he was looking forward to exploring a real relationship again. Dean would totally ignore that sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes he was just rejected by someone he could’ve cared about. 

“Oh,” Dean says with a tight lipped grimace. “Well, I guess that settles it. Bye, Cas.” 

Dean turns sullenly and starts walking towards the door, trying to compose himself. But he doesn’t get far before a hand lands on his shoulder and drags him back into the stacks. 

“Dean, wait,” Cas whispers “You misunderstand me. I wanted nothing more than to call you and make plans to see you again, but I’m a Novak and you’re a Winchester. You know what would happen if our families ever found out about us?”

“Yeah, I know all hell would break loose. I’m not stupid. But,” Dean hesitates, eyeing the hand perched on his shoulder, “there is a part of me that just doesn’t care?” 

Cas looks at Dean with a birdlike head tilt and perplexed expression. “I do not understand.”

“Look,” he says, motioning for Cas to follow him through the labyrinth of columns, “I’m just going to say it: I felt something back at that bar. I haven’t felt anything close to it in years. It was like I was coming alive for the first time in forever, and you brought it out in me. And maybe you didn’t feel a damn thing, but I sure did and I’m not about to let that go so easily.” 

Dean huffs out a breath and stares at the titles of the books, the floor, anywhere but Cas. This definitely isn’t what he came here to do, but Dean knows now he can’t let Cas get away. Screw family feuds and warring words, he says. 

After what feels like a hundred years, Cas finally speaks. “Dean…I barely know you. And you know our family situation. Risking everything for someone I’ve just met seems a bit foolish, don’t you think? If we knew one another better-”

Dean spins around, looking the other man in the eye and cutting off his sentence. “-Fine. I see your point. But answer me this: do you feel anything at all? If circumstances were different, would you pursue this?” 

“In a heartbeat,” Cas says, the quickness of the response throwing Dean offguard. “I don’t know how to say this,” Cas begins, a light blush rising to his cheeks, “but I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night, and knowing that I couldn’t talk to you made me ache. I don’t know what it is, but you’ve lit something in me, Dean Winchester. Something fiery and tangible and real, and I’m afraid to let it go.”

Dean takes a few seconds to stare at Cas, because nobody has ever says anything quite so authentic to him well…ever. Suddenly all Dean sees is Castiel leaning against the book shelve, his blue eyes drawing Dean in like an ocean does its tide. Cas says that Dean lit a fire in him, something real. He feels the same way about Cas, that much is obvious now. But what? What is it that draws Dean to this man? What is it about Castiel-Jimmy-whatever the hell his name is- that has enraptured Dean’s attention so fully? 

“So why are we arguing about this then?” Dean whispers. “I like you, you like me, so why aren’t we giving this thing a shot? For the sake of a feud that isn’t even ours to fight? Do you even know why our families hate each other in the first place, because I sure as hell don’t.” 

Cas runs a hand nervously through his hair, avoiding Dean’s gaze. “I guess I don’t either, but that doesn’t change anything. Surely you were told about the last time something like this happened between our families.”

Dean cringes at the story. Of course he knew. It is a cautionary tale for the ages, how one Anna Novak fell madly in love with a man named Adam Winchester, the two of them thinking they could get around the family feud. Nobody really knows the details, but in the end they both ended up in a family crossfire shooting when they tried to run away together and both ended up dead. The moral of the story is very clear: Novaks would not love Winchesters if they wanted to stay alive. 

“…You can see why I’m hesitant, even though I am willing.”

Dean racks his brain, trying to think of a way to bridge the gap of distrust between himself and this man. All he can come up with is that old children's game of twenty questions, but who is to say that won’t work?  “Okay then. How about this,” Dean hedges, eyeing Castiel with a glint in his stare. “Twenty questions. You can ask anything you wish, and I can do the same. If we both feel like this is something we want at the end of the game, we go through with it and see each other again. If not, we go our separate ways and I won’t stop ya.” 

Cas smiles a little at that and then reluctantly takes Dean’s arm, leading him into a secluded part of the library. “Okay, sounds fair enough. I just got off my shift anyway. You start.”

Dean follows Cas over to a small table in the back of the library, where the only sound is the quiet thrumming of the heater. He has to admit, he is never one for libraries or reading for fun - besides his Vonnegut of course - but this is a quaint little place he could get used to if it meant he could be with Cas. 

“Fine,” Dean says. “First question. Can you please tell me your real name?”

Cas laughs quietly while he lifts his lanyard over his head. “My real name is Castiel James Novak. I’ve gone by Jimmy in all of my classes since I was so tired of hearing professors taking hacks at the name ‘Castiel’. Do you know how tiring it is to have your name mispronounced on a daily basis?”

“No, I can’t imagine that. Dean is a pretty straightforward name in my book. Your turn.”

Cas thumbs the lanyard in his hand absentmindedly, looking up at Dean with that blue stare. “Why did you take an interest in me back at that bar? I saw the others you were around, those who are probably much more experienced and good looking than me. Why pick the nerdy guy reading in a bar?” 

Dean leans on one hand as he thinks about that question. Why did he go to Cas in that bar? Is it only for those eyes that mesmerized him across the way, or is it for that stupid little smile he had on his face when he is reading? Is it the way he looked in that barstool, so out of place it is almost comical, or is it the way he looked so sure of himself? 

“I guess it is just fate,” Dean says simply, eyeing Cas with a smirk. “You were just too damn gorgeous to resist I guess.” 

He grins widely when he finds Cas blushing furiously at those words, turning his head away to hide the redness in his cheeks. As if Dean needed another reason to be enraptured with this Novak: along with being studious and gorgeous, he is also freaking adorable. It isn’t fair in Dean’s book that one person could be so full of perfection. 

“Next question,” Dean says. “Why a library? Out of all the places to work, why choose a place with nothing but old books?” 

“Well, as a literature major I’m a bit offended by that, Mr. Winchester,” Cas says with fake vice in his voice. “I chose the library because it is an escape from my family life. Books are like people to me; each one has their own story to tell. Some of them are popular, their tales famously known to the world and well liked, while others are hidden gems lost in the stacks, waiting to be found. People are the same way if you think about it; some withered and wise, but are forgotten about throughout the years, while others are new and bright, always getting attention laid on them. And…” Cas hesitates “I guess I just always found a beauty in that.” 

“Well then,” Dean asks with a smirk, “What kind of book would I be like, Cas?” 

“Ah, but it’s not your turn to ask the questions, Dean,” he replies back with a cheeky grin. 

They continue like that for a long while, a game of twenty questions easily becoming thirty, then forty, until hours have passed with words flying back and forth without interruption. Dean is absolutely fascinated with Castiel’s world, thanking the high heavens that very little of it has to do with has mobster family. He learns all the little details about Cas’ life in those short hours they spend together, like how Cas is in his final year of college and hopes to attend graduate school, or how Cas wants a cat but his family would never let him get one, or how Cas is a classically trained pianist and spent two years of high school at Juliard. He feels like he knows more about Cas than he does some people in his own family, and Dean is absolutely enraptured with the man. 

He doesn’t even notice the time passing until Castiel breaks off from telling a rather humorous tale about Michael and an unfortunate mishap with a police dog, the blood rushing from his face when he notices the time. 

“Is it really 6:30?” Cas asks frantically, scrabbling around the desk for his bag. 

Dean looks up at him with a concerned glance. “Yeah, why? What’s wrong?” 

Cas looks like a ghost, the color completely drained from his face. “My father told me to be home an hour ago and he gets…testy when I disobey his orders,” Cas says. 

Dean can’t help but get a sinking feeling in his stomach. Cas is simply frantic, his hands shaking and eyes shifting back and forth wildly. He reaches over to help Cas put his name tag in the open bag, and hears his heart drop when Cas cringes away from his presence. 

He can’t just let Cas go home in this state. 

“Hey, do you need me to drive you home or something? You look pretty stressed.” 

Cas just nods his head, avoiding Dean’s heavy gaze. “No, it’s fine really. I’m sure I can find a bus home or something, and I think it wouldn’t help my…situation if anyone from my family saw us together.” 

But Dean isn’t taking this lying down. “Look, as your friend I can’t let you drive home this way. What is that saying again? Friends don’t let other guys drive…alone?” 

He softens up a bit when Cas laughs, seeming to calm down some. “I think the saying you’re looking for is ‘Friends don’t let friends drive drunk,’ which I’m clearly not. Trust me, I sort of wish I was considering what I’m going home to.” 

“And what is that exactly?” 

Cas sighs heavily, giving Dean one of those deep stares of his. “Look Dean, you’re a nice guy and I’m glad you consider me a friend, but you don’t want to get into the depths of my family life. At least not right now.” 

Dean can’t help but smile a bit. “Does that mean there is going to be a later?” 

Cas grins back. “Maybe. Possibly. We’ll see. But until then,” Cas says, fishing around his bag, “I would like to see you again. My family is having a ball this Friday, and I would love for you to be my…date,” he trials off, blushing furiously at the words. Cas quickly hands Dean a small invitation with the date and time of the event on it, not looking him in the eye. 

…Date? Cas wants him to enter his house and be his date? After all of this talk about not being seen together? Dean can’t help but wonder what runs through that guy’s head sometimes. 

“You realize that if I show up at your house you’re family will shoot me on the spot?”

Cas softly laughs at that. “Read the invitation, dumbo. It’s a masquerade ball, which means if you wear a good enough mask then my family shouldn’t be able to recognize you at all. So if you get shot at this party, I’m not the one liable here.” 

Dean doesn’t know how to respond to the request. Should be risk it? He isn’t going to lie, dressing up is one of his favorite activities, plus the added danger of being a James Bond figure in Novak territory? The opportunity is tempting, perhaps too tempting for Dean Winchester to resist. 

“Okay then,” he says. “You’ve got yourself a date.” 

Cas lights up automatically, the earlier panic gone from his features. “Well, I guess I will see you then, Winchester.”

“You better count on it, Novak!” Dean calls as Cas walks away. 

And when Cas is out of sight, Dean can’t help himself. He’s got a date with Castiel Novak, and that is enough to make him smile.


	4. Chapter 4

_Why did I invite him again? Oh yeah, because I'm an idiot._ Cas wanders his room anxiously, fidgeting with the fringe of his shirt. His heart is pounding, his hands are sweating, and he is all together a wreck. Dean Winchester is going to be at his home in less than an hour, and Cas has absolutely no idea what to do. The sprout of confidence that encouraged him to ask Dean out at the library is long gone, replaced by fear and ultimate confusion. What if he did something wrong? What is his family finds out Dean is here? Or the worst, what if Dean decides Cas isn't worth the risk and doesn't show up at all? All of it make Cas' hands shake.

"Castiel? Whatever are you doing, brother?"

He jumps in surprise as Michael appears behind him, a light hand landing on his shoulder. Cas turns around reluctantly, trying to hide the tremors that are rocking his body. His brother is already dressed like a prince, doused in a black suit with a snakeskin mask on his face, and the smile he gives is absolutely mischievous.

"Would you care to knock?" Castiel says broodingly, giving Michael a small glare.

"Oh Castiel, always so touchy," Michael says with a small laugh. "But that is besides the point. What has got you so jumpy?"

Cas avoids Michael's gaze and turns back to the closet, fishing through the racks. "Oh, nothing in particular. Just…get a little nervous at social events. It is not like father lets me see people often, you know."

"Hush now. You know quite well why father has you under a tight leash. Maybe if you were better behaved, he would loosen the reigns."

"Must you always talk to me like I'm an animal? I'm a human being, you know."

Michael looks onto his brother with a quiet stare, one that holds ultimate pity. "You know he is still angry about your disobedience, Castiel. He won't forgive that lightly. Unless you go back and change your mistakes."

Cas scoffs. "I would rather be chained up here for eternity than change my actions, Michael. My disobedience is not killing in cold blood, and I would hardly call that a mistake."

Michael sighs slowly and pushes Cas' hands aside, throwing suits and ties left and right on the floor. "I've always admired your moral code, Castiel, even if father cannot see it. But that is besides the point now; the real question is what are you wearing tonight? Everything in here is second rate at best, and this is a high class affair. Don't you have anything decent at all?"

Cas ignores his brother's jibe and grabs at the garments that are being thrown his direction. He can't help but laugh; everything Michael is suggesting he wear is absolutely hideous, even suggesting a velvet suit his father gave him for his fifteenth birthday.

"Are you serious right now?" Cas asks. "I'm a twenty-four year old man; I'm pretty sure I can pick out clothes."

"I'm sure you can Castiel, but you know how picky father is when it comes to these events. I'm pretty sure that Batman t-shirt you have on isn't going to cut it."

Cas is about to respond, but his brother emerges with something that Cas has to admit isn't all that horrible. A simple navy suit with a tie, and he even pulls out that old abandoned trench coat Cas forgot he owned. All in all, not horrible at all.

"Okay, I guess that will do," Cas says tiredly, trying to push Michael out of his room. "Now can you please let me be?"

His brother laughs lightly as he makes his exit. "Whatever you say. Oh and by the way," he says with a smirk, "whatever girl you're trying to impress, your nerves are utterly obvious. Better work on that."

"…There is no girl!" Cas calls after his brother, but Michael is already long gone.

* * *

After he gets dressed and steals a masquerade mask from Gabriel, Cas descends the stairs into their grand foyer, the hype of the entire ball. He looks from above at the mass amounts of people in their black tie attire, men in clean cut coats and women with three inch heels on their feet. His father has really outdone himself this time; the room is decked in crystals and golden leaf garlands line the banisters; pumpkin scented candles line the counters and there are butlers scurrying about in ridiculous dress, attired in golden suits that gleam against the bright light of the chandler overhead. The extravagance of his father's parties always made Cas want to gag, but this one takes the cake for nausea-inducing surplus. There is even a damn life sized cornucopia in the middle of the room to celebrate the Thanksgiving season. Really now, Father?

"A cornucopia? Are we in The Hunger Games or something?"

Cas spins around to find Dean standing above him, a small smirk on his lips. He looks like James Bond himself, dressed in a tight black suit that accentuates his..assets. He also has a velvet black mask on his face and…is he wearing freaking eyeliner? Cas is absolutely flustered, just like he was back at the bar when they first met. Goodness, is there anything Dean Winchester can't pull off?

"Well uh…," Cas stammers, "you…clean up well."

Dean rolls his eyes. "I clean up well? I'm risking my life by being here and your only compliment for me is that I clean up well? We really need to work on your dating game."

"And you're being a little overdramatic with the whole 'risking your life' thing don't you think? I think we need to get you a dictionary."

"Whatever you say," Dean says sarcastically, grabbing Cas' arm while pulling him down the stairs into the throng of people. "Now tell me Novak, who am I avoiding tonight? I'm sure Sammy wouldn't be too pleased to find my body on our front porch after this is all over."

Cas knows he should laugh at this, but he simply cannot. Entertaining the possibility of Dean dead is already too much for him to bear, and he hardly knows the guy. "Don't joke about that, Dean. You know it's a real possibility if we ever get caught together."

He huffs out a breath. "Geez, Cas. Just trying to lighten you up. You seem so tense."

Dean isn't wrong; Cas has been worrying about this party for days, and now that Dean is standing by his side, in his own house, surrounded by very trained mobster assassins, he is anything but calm. He knows Michael always keeps a shotgun on his person, and his cousin Balthazar a pocket knife dipped in deadly poison. Dean could easily end up dead by the time the night is done if he isn't careful.

"Sorry," Cas apologizes, guiding Dean into a discreet corner of the room. "I just know my family and their intolerance for Winchesters. But if you want to stay alive, you will want to avoid that group right over there."

He points to the opposite corner of the room where his family is located, all lounging about with glasses of expensive wine in their hands. Everyone is there; Gabriel with a ridiculous feather boa around his shoulders to match his outrageous pink mask, Michael in his dapper suit, even his cousins Balthazar and Hael are laughing along with the group, dressed in matching silver attire. The Milton part of his family never fails to impress at these events.

However Cas can't help but scowl at them; they look totally at ease, just like they were only an aristocratic family and not a group of felons. All of the blood on his family's name, all the people who are no longer on this earth because of their acts, the whole ordeal makes Cas sick.

"Wowza. Wouldn't take that group for a band of high class mobsters," Dean says, eyeing the group with undisguised grimace in his glance.

Cas rolls his eyes. "Well what were you expecting? That we would all be dressed like we were in a Godfather film and speak with ridiculous accents?"

Dean just laughs, guiding Cas away from the corner. "No, its just interesting to see the other half of the mob world. When I think of this life I think of gangly, dirty lowlives like my family, not high society like yours. I feel so out of place."

"Well then," Cas says quietly, "welcome to my world."

Dean just shakes his head lightly and expertly pulls Cas away from the crowd, sidestepping aristocrats and royals, mobsters and their thugs. He can't help but notice that it is impossible to tell anyone apart, and that for one night the lowlives can live with the high lives in perfect harmony. It is strangely poetic, in a way.

He doesn't realize he's outside until the cold hits his face, the classic violin tunes fading into the distance as they walk. Dean is silent as he cautiously intertwines his fingers with Cas', shooting him an uncertain glance for approval. Cas only grabs his palm tighter in response.

"So what's it like, being a Novak? This is some pretty high society stuff you've got going on here," Dean asks, a bit of bite in his voice.

"Nothing special, really. I hate it most of the time," Cas replies quietly, his voice coming out shaky. He is very aware that Dean's hand is still wrapped around his, his palm growing clammy from the cold. "Father always invites these aristocrats over and asks us to pull the 'healthy, happy family' routine, but we're so dysfunctional I'm surprised people haven't seen through our ruse yet."

"I'm sorry it's that way for you, but my family isn't much better. If I didn't have Sammy, I would've been long gone by now," Dean says, leading Cas over to a bench on the pathway. He brushes off the lightly dusted snow before he sits, his hand still clamped around Cas'. He knows it should be awkward, they hardly know each other after all, but it is strangely…calming? The warmth radiating from Dean is making Cas forget that there are trained killers just feet away from him.

"May I ask why?" Cas asks as they sit.

Dean probably doesn't notice, but Cas feels Dean's grip get more tense as he thinks it over, obviously trying to devise up the right words to say.

"It's a long story, but my mom died in a crossfire shooting about three years ago, against your family nonetheless," Dean beings, and Cas can already feel himself cringing. Why did all the pain stem from his family?

"My dad…he never truly…recovered," Dean stammers, his eyes darting back and forth between Cas and the ground. "Became a drunk first, a drug addict second, and then took over the family mob from my grandfather about a year or so ago. He's been on a rage against your family ever since and automatically put Sam and I to work as hit men. We didn't get a say, only got a gun slammed into our hands and were told to do our duty. I didn't question it, naturally. I wish now I would've."

Cas doesn't realize he's rubbing small circles into the back of Dean's hand until he gets a strange look from the other man. "Sorry," Cas apologizes quickly, ducking his head to hide the redness in his cheeks. "My mother used to do that when I was a child to comfort me. Back before…she left us."

He doesn't know why he says it. Cas has never been open about his mother's departure, one without any explanation at that. One day she was here and the next she was gone, like a cloud in the sky. He always wondered where she went, what she was doing now. He wanted to know if she found a new family, a husband who would actually hold her close and treat her right, not use her for a power play like his father did. He wondered if she had more kids, half brothers and sisters he would never know. And Cas couldn't help but get a nostalgic feeling in his gut when he thought of her, always having that deep and forbidden desire that she would return to them, even if that thought is childish and improbable.

Dean huffs out a short laugh. "Well then, look at us. Both misfit pieces in a puzzle where we don't belong."

And suddenly, Dean's arms are around Cas, bringing him close to his body. At first Cas is shocked; nobody has ever really hugged him since his mom left, but soon a feeling of warmth rises in his stomach, making it flip in tiny circles. A smile glows on Cas' face, and he snuggles in closer to Dean without thinking about it.

"Yeah," he says with a grin, "I guess we are."

* * *

They stay like that for God knows how long; Dean tells Cas stories about his family, growing up learning how to kill instead of how to play, how to shoot a gun instead of how to swing a bat, how to fight with real swords instead of foam ones. He learns that Dean got his first gun at the age of seven, was going to target practice by the age of eight, and got into his first major fight when he was twelve against a boy twice his size who was bullying Sam. He smiles when Dean talks about his brother, his cold tone he used for his family earlier instantly melting away when he mentions "his Sammy" and the stories that go with him.

Even though they grew up in the worse environment possible (Cas cringes when Dean tells one story about how him and Sam once tried to run away and were locked up in their rooms for two weeks, only being fed bread and water like dogs), they still managed to have somewhat of a childhood. Apparently Sam was a huge nerd, playing games like Dungeons and Dragons with his friends from school, and Dean spent the better half of his time fixing up cars for cash, fancy ones at that. And yet all the while that dark world of theirs was always lurking in the background, waiting for the right them to claim these boys as its own.

Dean is telling a very hilarious tale involving Sam and a date gone wrong when footsteps echo down the path.

"Castiel? You out here brother? Show yourself, you loser!"

Cas tenses, untangling himself from Dean's arms quickly.

"Hide!" Cas whispers harshly, pushing Dean away from the bench and behind the nearest line of bushes just as Gabriel stumbles into view, clearly drunk. He also can't help but notice that his brother is lacking some essential clothing items, like a shirt…or pants, for that matter…

"Ah, it's mah favorite brother!" Gabriel slurs, a half drunken bottle of champagne in his hand. "I've been lookin' for ya alllll night."

"What are you doing out here, Gabe?" Cas says harshly, trying to hide his clear fear. "Isn't it a bit cold for your attire…or lack thereof."

"Ah yah know, those stuck up floozies don't know how to have fun! Our lovely brother kindly suggested I take a walk-" he pauses, glancing down at the bottle in his hand-"and somehow my alcohol disappeared. Any idea how that happened?"

Cas just sighs, guiding his brother back down the path. "Well you're going to freeze, so let's get you back inside and have someone find you some clothes."

He watches as his brother stumbles off, just waving his hand sluggishly. "Thanks bro. I owe you one!"

"Ugh, he really is obnoxious isn't he?" Once again Cas jumps as warm arms wrap around his chest, and once again he blushes when Dean leans close, his lips against his ear. "Ruining our perfectly good conversation like that."

Cas shivers, turning around so he is inches from Dean's face, the palatable tension rolling off his body in waves. He hasn't figured out why yet, but everything is heightened when he's around Dean. Sensory feelings, emotions, thought, everything feels like it is attached to a live wire that slaps him in the face with tangible energy, making Cas feel alive for the first time in his life. Funny how he has known Dean only a short week and he already feels like they are slowly becoming one, their energies combining into one unit.

"So it looks like it will be my time to bow out soon," Dean says with a hint of sadness in his voice. "I told Sammy I was scouting out a job and he will worry you guys got me if I'm not home soon. But," he pauses, unlocking his arms from around Cas to grab his hand again, "Any chance I can have a dance before I go?"

He doesn't even respond, just grabs Dean's other hand and brings it to rest on his shoulder, guiding the other to his waist. The violin music from the party drifts from the open doors, Cas and Dean clearly hidden away from prying eyes. And as the tune slows to a waltz, the two of them sway along with the song, Cas' head resting easily against Dean's shoulder, hands placed around his waist. It is like they are suspended in time, and it is only the two of them in the world, the rest fading away until it is but a glimmer in the distance. Cas realizes quite quickly he doesn't want this to end; the Winchester has become a part of his life now, and he's accepted it.

"So, when will I see you again?" Cas whispers into Dean's shoulder.

"Is tomorrow too soon?" Dean whispers back, his lips dangerously close to Cas' ear again.

"Never too soon," Cas mutters, just swaying along with the luxurious tune. "Meet me at the library around one-ish?"

Cas feels Dean's light breathing humming through the air. "It's a date."

* * *

The song ends, too soon in Castiel's opinion, fading into a more upbeat tune. Dean disentangles himself from Cas' arms and leans back on his heels, staring around the garden with a slightly fretful glance.

"I guess that is my cue to leave," Dean says with reluctance in his voice. "But before I go…"

Cas could never have predicted what comes next. One minute he is standing feet away from the Winchester, and then the next he is centimeters away, his hand coming up to capture Cas' face.

Then there is fire. Burning, consuming, brilliant fire. Dean's lips find his easily, soft and warm in the cold night. The smoldering that fills Cas' body is tangible. His lungs spring to life in a gasp, catching the other man's lips back. Dean's free hand comes up to grab the other side of Cas' face, pushing the two of them together closer. Cas immediately responds back, bringing his hand around Dean's back to make their connection complete.

Everything is Dean in that moment, at least in Cas' mind. He doesn't worry about if people will come out and see them, he doesn't care about anything other than the flushed cheek that is springing to life under his hand, how Dean is breathing into his mouth for tiny gasps for air. He doesn't give a damn if Michael comes out and shoots them both dead right then; dying in Dean's arms would be the greatest death he could come by. He doesn't care about anything other than a beautiful man whom he may love is kissing him fiercely, unashamedly, entrapping Cas' lower lip between his teeth. It takes all of Cas' strength not to moan.

And yet all too soon, the fiery kiss turns into a light smolder. Cas and Dean are both breathless, leaning against the other for support. Cas has only been kissed a few other times before in his life, and none of them were like this.

Cas opens his mouth to say something, but Dean puts a finger to his lips. The look he gives Cas is quite endearing, making the Novak blush uneasily.

"Well, I will see you tomorrow then," Dean whispers, leaving one last gentle kiss on his lips before he wanders out of the gate, leaving Cas behind.


	5. Chapter 5

Cas and Dean find themselves at the library the following day, once again sitting at that small table in the back of the room, babbling on about everything and anything. They then agree to meet up at the movies a week from then to watch a cheesy romantic chick flick that Cas wants to see. Dean can’t remember the name of it because he was staring at Cas the entire time, a goofy smile on his face. After that they the season changes and they find themselves looking at Christmas lights in downtown Chicago, then end up at a New Years Eve bash Charlie is throwing a few weeks later and share drunk, messy kisses at midnight. Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months, and the two soon become inseparable, spending long nights staring at the stars outside the city limits, whispering promises about their future, how they are going to get away from this toxic world they live in and see the universe.  
    

However, Dean can’t get past the secrecy of their relationship. He’s a pretty good liar, he has to admit, but he simply cannot keep his happiness under wraps around his family. John definitely notices, Dean can tell, but doesn’t say anything. But he should have suspected that Sam would catch on sooner or later.  
    

“Okay, who is it?”  
    

Dean rolls out from under the Impala to find Sam leaning against the garage frame one day, arms crossed tensely over his chest. He looks truly intimidating from the floor, towering over him, and yet it is his eyes that scare Dean the most, that quiet burning that means he’s truly angry about something.  
    

He pushes himself up off the floor to look his brother levelly in the eye. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about, Sammy.”  
    

“Oh cut the crap, Dean!” Sam exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “The past few months you haven’t complained once, gotten into a fight with dad, hell- you have even been taking Dad’s stakeout jobs with a big smile on your face!”  
    

Dean grits his teeth together, leaning against the hood of the Impala tensely, rubbing the hood absentmindedly. “What, a guy isn’t allowed to be happy for no reason? We’ve had some pretty big successes in the past few months, you know. Dad finally cracked down on that Italian mobster the Novaks hired, he hasn’t been drinking as much, and,” Dean pulls a folded up form out of his pocket, throwing it in his brother’s direction, “I just got a raise from working overtime at Bobby’s garage. There’s no one, trust me.”  
    

He watches as Sam unclenches his fists, taking a deep breath to calm down. He thinks he’s in the clear from the questions, already getting down under the Impala again to finish up his work, when he feels his blood run cold with six words.  
    

“I know about you and Castiel.”  
    

Dean hits his head on the Impala as he hears the words, rolling out from under the car again to find Sam absolutely fuming. He has seen Sam angry countless times in his life, but never was it directed at him. Dean isn’t going to lie, it scares him to the bone.  
    

“…Wha-what-wa,” Dean stammers uneasily, backing himself into the corner of the garage.  
    

“Just admit to it, Dean! You were acting weird so I went to your room to ask you what was wrong, but you weren’t there. But I just happened to come across your unlocked phone instead, and well, your texts speak for themselves.”  
    

“What were you going through my stuff for?” Dean asks tensely, clearly trying to buy himself time to explain.  
    

“Wha-Dean! You go through my stuff all the time! Do I have to remind you of the time when-“ Sam stops, shaking his head erratically. “-You’re changing the subject!”  
    

Dean mutters cusses under his breath, nails biting into this palms.  
    

“Okay fine,” Dean says quietly. “I’ve been seeing Cas for six months now.”  
    

The next thing Dean knows he is on the ground, a throbbing pain blooming across his cheek. He doesn’t even comprehend that Sam punched him until his brother is standing right over him, one hand dragging him up off the floor while the other is still clenched into a fist.  
    

“Are you effin’ insane?” Sam growls, getting up in Dean’s face. “Like dating?! Dean, do not tell me you are fooling around with a Novak? What is wrong with you?”  
    

Dean tries to respond but he doesn’t get a chance before Sam bangs him back against the concrete, his brother’s hot breath breathing down his neck.  
    

“I’m not insane,” Dean says through clenched teeth, “And we’re not fooling around! Can’t two guys just be friends?”  
    

Sam slightly releases his grip to lean back, throwing him the darkest look he has ever gotten. “I’m pretty sure friends don’t sext back and forth all day.”  
    

Dammit. Those were the texts Sam saw? Of course they were. He can’t help but blush at what Sam must have seen. Cas may be a bit of a hermit in his home, but he could get Dean all hot and bothered like no other.  
    

“…Maybe a bit more than friends then,” Dean whispers, feeling the redness flow to his cheeks.  
    

Sam huffs out a breath and lets Dean go, his body slumping against the wall roughly. Sam starts pacing uneasily, running a hand through his hair, clenching his fists. Dean doesn’t know what he is so nervous about; it’s not like Sam would be the one in deep water if anyone found out about his relationship with Cas.  
    

“Did you sleep with him?” Sam gets out between the pacing, not even looking Dean in the eye.  
    

“Dude, no!” Dean gapes, running a hand over his face. “It isn’t like that with Cas.” He keeps out that he wishes it was.  
    

“Dean,” Sam says tiredly, “you know this has to stop, right? That no good will come out of this?”       
    

“How do you know? Cas isn’t like the rest of them. He’s good, unlike his mob family. He wants to get away. He hasn’t even killed anyone!”  
    

“Do you think anyone will care about that? They will shoot first ask questions later. That’s how this life works! You taught me that, remember?”  
    

“Then I was wrong!” Dean exclaims in frustration. “Our family is changing. Can’t you feel it? Dad is getting better, we haven’t made any attacks on the Novaks in months. I think he’s finally getting over this stupid game of revenge ping pong we have with that family. There is still hope for a better future for us!”  
    

“No, there isn’t!” Sam screams back. His face contorts into an image of angry John, and it throws Dean so offguard he stumbles back. He has seen bits of his father in Sam before, but never like this. “This family doesn’t change. The Novaks don’t change. This war has been going on for generations before us, and it will keep going on way past our time. Can’t you see that?”  
    

Dean doesn’t say anything. His body is racked with tension and his mind is flailing. Sam is absolutely terrifying in that moment. His eyes are like twin flames that could light up the night. He returns to pacing back and forth, not saying a word and yet emitting such a strong energy it is palatable. And yet all Dean can think about in that moment is Cas; what is going to happen to him? Will Sam blab about them to their father?    
    

After what seems like hours, Dean can’t take the silence anymore. “Are you going to rat us out to Dad then? Send a hoard over to the Novaks to take Cas out?”  
    

Sam stops pacing; suddenly that hatred and fire in his eyes goes out in an instant, automatically cooling to the Sam Dean knows so well; the kind, compassionate Sammy he practically raised, not the solider his family created over the years.  
    

“…How could you think for one second I could ever do that?” Sam asks, honest hurt in his voice.  
    

“Then why are you so angry, huh? Why are you so bent on me leaving Cas?” Dean says harshly.  
    

“Because I don’t want to see you dead, which is the only way this can end! Trust me, I know.” Sam breathes heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. He looks Dean in the eye and the hurt Dean finds there is so deep, so tangible, he can’t help but wonder what ghost is haunting his little brother’s mind.  
    

“Sam…” Dean treads lightly, “…how do you know that?”  
  

 Sam looks at Dean sternly. “Because it happened to me.”  
  


* * *

  
“Her name was Jessica Milton,” Sam begins, his voice already shaky. Dean managed to get Sam inside the Impala to tell the story because he looked like he would pass out otherwise. His skin is a chalky pallor, and his hands are already twitching with the memory.  
    

“Why have I never heard of her?” Dean asks, looking at his brother for what feels like the first time. All the pent up anger over the past few years, could this be the cause of it all?  
    

“…Dad didn’t want to tell anyone, especially you. Her..death-,” he struggles, tears springing to his eyes- “was brutal. It happened shortly after Mom died, back when Dad was a total wreck. Jess and I had been together about a year beforehand before he caught us together behind the house one night. He didn’t even stop to ask questions; he just recognized her as a cousin of the Novaks and shot her at point distance.”  
    

“Sammy…” Dean starts to say, but Sam cuts him off, tears starting to fall on his face easily now, sobs building in his throat.  
    

“She died in my arms, Dean. Dad shot her…and she buckled underneath me. I watched as the blood seeped through her clothes, knowing I had no way to save her. The last thing she said was that she loved me and that she would see me in the afterlife. You would’ve loved her. And I can’t-” Sam sobs, gripping the leather seat so hard his knuckles turn white, “I cant-help…but feeling that it’s all my fault. If I would have been more careful, if I would’ve taken the bullet for her, if I…” but Sam can’t continue on any longer. He loses it, kicking the dashboard with a vengeance, all that anger and guilt rising to the surface after being stuffed down for so long.  
      
Dean has no words that would fix this, would bring any amount of understanding to the pain his brother is feeling, so he just does what he used to do when they were kids. Dean gathers Sam in his arms and holds his brother close, rubbing soothing circles on his back like their mother always used to. He could whisper that it is all going to be okay, that he will get over this, but he doesn’t. How do you just get over someone who was, is, and always will be your everything?  
    

He fleetingly thinks of what it would be like if Cas died in his arms, but he pushes the thought away quickly. He can’t, he won’t, think that way. If anything, Dean is going to protect that boy with his life now, make sure they don’t have the same fate as Sam and Jess. He will die before anyone harms Cas.  
    

They lose track of how many hours they spend in that car. Sam’s sobs finally die down until silent tears run down his cheeks, Dean never letting his hug falter. Eventually, Dean doesn’t know exactly when, Sam falls asleep against his chest, just like he did when their mother first passed and Sam would come running into his room in the middle of the night, haunted with nightmares.  
    

And when his brother awakes about an hour later and the tears have stopped falling, Sam still leaning against his brother, he tells Dean every little detail about Jess. How she was a natural blond who was the sweetest girl Sam had ever met in his entire life; how they met when Sam was still going to college at Columbia, before he dropped out to join the family mob full time after her death. He tells Dean about how she came up to him in their astrology class and out of the blue started talking to him about the stars, not even introducing herself first. He says he knew instantly that he would fall in love with her one day from that first conversation, and how he asked her out only hours after their first meeting.  
    

Sam’s eyes light up when he explains the days they spent together, how devastated they both were when they realized their families were connected in that petty feud. His voice takes on a dreamy tone when he talks about the nights they spent sneaking around the Milton grounds, hiding from passerby servants who would monitor the mansion at night. And Dean can’t help but laugh when Sam talks about how they lost their virginity to one another in the Milton gardens because his brother’s face turns beet red and he stammers over his words.  
    

But of course, the happy stories can’t last forever. When Sam comes full circle to that night Jess got shot, his mood automatically turns somber again.  
    

“…We were planning on running away together,” Sam says, the shakiness coming back into his voice. “That’s why we were meeting that night, to make our plans. We were going to pack up our things and steal Balthazar’s car; we didn’t have a destination or any money, but we were just going to drive until we ran out of gas and see where it landed us. But of course, we never got there.”  
    

Sam moves out of Dean’s arms to lean back against the seat, propping his feet up on the dashboard. His eyes look sunken and tired; all of the energy has seemed to have seeped out of his system, leaving only a beaten down version of his brother behind. He doesn’t look at Dean, instead keeping his eyes on the floor. Dean can only wonder how long Sam has been keeping this tragedy pent up, never telling anyone.  
    

“I really don’t know what to say,” Dean says awkwardly, breaking the long silence between them. “I can’t-I just-,” he stammers uneasily, “I just…can’t imagine Dad doing something like that. How have you dealt with him all these years?”  
    

Sam wrings his hands, still avoiding eye contact. “I don’t. Besides when you’re around, Dad and I haven’t said a word to each other since the incident. We only kept up good face with you around so nobody would catch on. I can’t forgive him, and he hasn’t made an effort to gain it. To him, I think killing Jess was him finally getting his revenge on the Novaks for killing Mom, an eye for an eye. An innocent for an innocent. It’s sickening. I haven’t been able to look at him for years.”  
    

“…I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing Dean can say, even though he knows it isn’t enough. To think of the things his Sammy went through, the emotional pain he suffered all these years, Dean can’t imagine it. He always thought he was supposed to protect Sam from the outside world, from scummy mobsters like the Novaks. He never thought he would have to protect his brother in their own home.  
    

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Sam replies softly. “But can you see my point? Who is to say this same thing won’t happen again if you’re caught with Castiel?Who is to say it won’t be you who gets shot?” Sam hesitates, darting his gaze between Dean and the floor- “I already lost my Mom; I don’t want to lose my brother too.”  
    

“You aren’t going to lose me,” Dean replies in a gruff voice, trying to push back tears that are springing to his eyes. It kills him to see his brother this way, all broken and beaten down. It absolutely ruins him to see his Sammy unhappy, and the thought of leaving him behind destroys him. “I promise, Sam, that Cas and I will be more careful. I won’t let us get caught. But please,” Dean pleads, “Don’t tell me to not see Cas. He has become so important to me, I just can’t let him go.”  
    

Sam gazes at his brother with a soft understanding look in his eye. “He’s your Jess, isn’t he?”  
    

Dean smiles back at him. “Yeah,” he says, “I guess he is.”  
    

Sam grins. “Well then, if this ‘Cas’ is going to be around, mind telling me about the man who turned Dean Winchester into a blubbering softie?”  
    

He lightly punches Sam on the arm. “Cas may bring the chick flick moments out of me, but I can still kick your pretty little ass!”  
    

Sam laughs, and Dean quickly delves into the details about his relationship with Cas. For the first time Dean lets it all out, how Cas makes him blush like a schoolgirl with a crush, how he has brought emotions Dean never thought he would feel to life, how Cas is intelligent and kind, how he is a genuinely good person who for some reason spends his time on Dean when he could have any guy in the world. And after some ribbing from Sam, Dean admits that Cas is a damn good kisser.  
    

Their conversation goes on for at least another hour until John enters the garage, telling the boys they have another stakeout job on the Novaks. However neither of the boys object as they rev up the Impala and peel out into the city, laughing like they used to.  
    

Dean smiles all the way to the house he now knows so well. Now that somebody else knows how he feels about Cas, he finally feels like their relationship is real and complete. He is practically on a cloud of elation; for the first time in a long time, Dean feels alive. He feels free. He is free.


	6. Chapter 6

Cas doesn’t know why he is here. It’s a stupid idea; he should just turn around and go home before he makes a fool out of himself. But it has been weeks since he’s seen Dean face to face and he can’t wait any longer.   
    

The two of them decided to keep their distance after they almost got caught together one night. Dean had snuck into the Novak’s house (how he got in without being seen Cas still doesn’t know) to surprise him a few weeks ago. Of course he was thrilled to see Dean, so much that they got sloppy about secrecy. Their lighthearted argument about which Star Trek series was better got out of hand and Gabriel heard the voices down the hall. They didn’t even hear the footsteps approaching until a light knock rang on Cas’ door, making Dean dive unceremoniously out the window into the bushes below.   
    

Ever since then they both agreed some time apart would be good to offset the suspicion they clearly caused. Gabriel almost saw Dean’s figure falling out the building when he entered the room, and Cas is pretty sure he didn’t buy his story about rehearsing for the college musical, saying that the voices he heard were Cas acting out the different characters. Gabe had been keeping an extra close eye on him ever since.   
    

However Cas never thought not seeing Dean would be this hard. It only confirmed his suspicion that the Winchester has become an essential part of his life. During those three weeks when Cas didn’t see Dean outside of the occasional Skype call, he didn’t truly know how to function. It was like a part of himself was missing, like their souls had been tied together.   
    

He relayed the thought to Dean over a quick Skype session between class and work one night.   
    

“Cas, I miss you too,” Dean replied back once Cas got everything out into the open. “And it feels like I’m not complete when you’re not here either. But you know what? You and I? We’ve got a profound bond. Even if I don’t believe in angels and devils, or maybe even God himself, I believe in us. Just hold on to that okay?”   
    

And so Cas did; he held on to that thought throughout a whole week before he simply couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to not just see Dean with his eyes, he needed to feel him. He needed those messy make out sessions they had become accustomed to on cold nights. He craved the feeling of his hands running over Dean’s slight scruff, the way his almost lover would respond with taking his lips between his teeth, a move that absolutely drove Cas to the edge. He needed to hear Dean’s quiet voice, talking about anything and everything. He ached for the deep conversations that would keep him up at night, thinking about something Dean said.   
    

And that is how Cas ends up right where he stands now, on the cold, murky ground outside the Winchester’s beaten down apartment building, shivering in the frigid April night. The street is filthy and Dean’s Impala is easily the nicest car on the block. Smoke billows out from a factory a few doors down, filling the entire alleyway with thick smog. All the lights our out in the neighboring apartments, just like Cas planned. He doesn’t swing by at three in the morning just for kicks. He promised Dean they would be more careful, so this is his way of doing so. Nevermind that Dean will probably be less than thrilled to see Cas at this late of an hour.   
    

However, Cas quickly notices a chink in his plan; he has no idea if this is even Dean’s window. It looks like what Dean described to him; a trellis of dead peonies lays against the worn out brick, and the window has a slight crack in it on the left side. But what if it isn’t? It could easily be Sam’s window, or even worse, John’s.   
    

But Cas doesn’t allow himself to think about that. His body is shivering and if he doesn’t get inside soon he may just suffer from hypothermia. He searches the ground for a loose pebble and flings it into the air, hitting the glass with a clink, and hopes to whatever greater forces there are in the universe that this window is Dean’s.   
    

At first, nobody comes. The blinds stay shut and the lights stay off, and Cas assumes Dean is probably sleeping like a log. He could give up and go home, come back during daylight, but he didn’t come all this way just to leave. Instead, Cas gets an idea that is two parts crazy and one part genius. He walks forward and sticks his foot in the crevice of the trellis, and heaves himself up unto the lattice, scaling the wall with all his being.   
    

Cas would be the first to admit that physical strength is not his strong point; he never could do pull-ups in high school gym classes, but that doesn’t stop him. His determination to see the Winchester guides him forward, Cas’ hands getting scraped left and right as he grabs onto dead branches and the splintery wood, and they are practically mauled by the time he makes it to the windowsill, hauling himself up on the ledge for leverage.   
    

Hesitantly, Cas tries to get a look inside before he knocks, but when that proves fruitless he takes a leap of faith and bangs his hand against the window, grimacing at the blood his palm leaves behind. His hands truly are trashed, the adrenaline of sneaking out to see Dean distracting him from the throbbing pain.   
    

He hears muffled groans from inside before the bright yellow light fills the room. The blinds rip open with extreme force and shudder against the glass, revealing a groggy eyed Dean in nothing but blue striped boxers and a Van Halen t-shirt. He can’t help but smile when Dean’s eyes light up when they realize Cas is hanging outside his window.   
    

With a shudder, Dean pries the glass open with a slowness, trying to keep the loud squeaking to a minimum.  
    

“Cas?” Dean whispers, clearly disoriented and confused. “What are you doing here?”   
    

“I just missed you, that’s all. Now, can you please pull me off this ledge?”   
    

Dean complies silently, grabbing Cas’ arms and hauling him over the edge of the building, tumbling inside and onto the floor.   
    

“I missed you too, Cas, but did you have to scale my building at-” Dean glances to the neon green lights on his clock- “three in the morning? Couldn’t you have gone all Romeo and Juliet on me in, oh I don’t know, daylight?” Dean groans quietly, pushing himself and Cas off the floor and onto his bed. “A guy needs to sleep.”   
    

Cas just laughs lightly, leaning against Dean’s frame. “Oh come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”   
    

Dean twists to look at Cas with a glint of humor in his eyes. “You? Adventurous? I couldn’t even get you to go to that club downtown without you squirming.”   
    

“That place was unsanitary, Dean! I’m pretty sure roaches were mating in the restrooms!”  
    

Dean laughs quietly, pulling Cas into his embrace. His soft laughter reverberates through Cas’ body, a feeling he has come to love over the past few months. However it stops immediately once Dean catches a glance of Cas’ scraped up hands.   
    

“For the love of all things holy, Cas, did you fight a bear to get up here?”   
    

Cas has been able to put off the pain thus far, but suddenly it is like the blazing throbs in his palms are all he can focus on. He is more banged up than he thought.   
    

“Have you ever thought of trimming that trellis once and awhile?” Cas asks back.   
    

Dean shakes his head and pulls Cas up off the bed, leading him towards the door. “C’mon, we’re going down to the garage to fix you up.”   
    

“Won’t we wake your family?”  
    

“You always said you wanted a cat; now its time to act like one. Now be quiet, will ya?”  
    

And with that, Cas finds himself following Dean through the tiny apartment, trying not to land on the back of his heels with every step. He can’t help but notice that the home is rather bare; the walls are an off-white with cracks in the paint, and the only decoration comes when they quietly walk down the stairs. Three portraits line the walls; two of them are of young Sam and Dean, while the middle one is of a young Mary Winchester, her eyes bright and glowing even though it is only a picture.   
    

Cas stops and gazes at the photo. He of course knows the horrible story of her death, it was his family that was the cause of it after all, but he never knew her face. He almost wishes he was still living in that ignorance; now she was not just the woman who got shot in the crossfire who was a faceless being. Now she was a real person, and a sinking feeling slips into his stomach.   
    

“She was beautiful,” Cas whispers, his hand absentmindedly reaching out to touch the piece. “You look just like her.”   
    

Dean comes behind Cas and wraps his hands around his waist, leaning his chin on Cas’ shoulder. “It’s funny,” he whispers, “I sometimes still think she will walk through our front door, looking just like in that picture. Happy, humming ‘Hey Jude’ like she always used to. I miss her a lot, Cas. I really do.”   
    

He turns around to face Dean, planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “I know you do.  And I can’t ever tell you enough how sorry I am.”  
    

“’s not your fault,” Dean mumbles into Cas’ shoulder before he looks down at the blood painted on Cas’ hands and automatically regains focus, turning Cas around and guiding him to the back of the apartment and out the door, leading him across the street to a worn down garage. He can even see the Impala sitting pretty between the small windows at the top of the garage door.       
    

Dean easily hauls up the door and lightly pushes Cas inside, quietly closing the garage behind him with the dexterity of a cat. Once Dean looks around and makes sure they are alone, he wordlessly points at the open chair by the paper-filled desk, waving at Cas to take a seat.   
    

“Dammit Cas, you really got yourself torn up,” he says from across the garage, searching through a file cabinet full of car parts. “I’ll try my best to fix you up here, but you’ll probably want to see a doctor for antibiotics.”   
    

“Well thanks, Nurse Dean,” Cas says sarcastically, grinning as Dean crosses the room with a first aid kit.   
    

He smirks back and rummages through the white box, pulling out whiskey and gauze. “Sorry it’s not the classiest setup, but it’s cleaned up Sam and I plenty of times before. It’ll work for you too.”  
    

“Wait is that-ah!” Cas groans as the alcohol gets thrown on his wounds, the stinging overtaking any earlier pain. “Dammit! You couldn’t have given me a warning first?”       
    

“You’re such a child when it comes to pain. Didn’t you ever get told to rub some dirt on it as a child? Goodness, you’re just a baby in a trench coat, aren’t you?”  
    

Cas throws Dean an angry side glance, which only makes Dean erupt in quiet laughter. “You are the least intimidating creature in the world, you know that?”   
    

“I wouldn’t say that so quickly; you haven’t seen me truly angry.”   
    

“Oh yeah? And what would bring out the wrath of Castiel?” Dean asks. He holds Cas’ torn up hand in his palm, searching for any splinters or thorns in the wounds, but those green eyes keep darting up to Cas’ gaze, putting him off focus. Cas has to admit it is a bit ridiculous how after all this time those eyes can still entrap his entire being.  
    

“Uh…” he stammers when those green eyes find his again, Dean’s calloused fingers rubbing over his torn skin. “Wha…what did you say?”   
    

Dean giggles (yes, the man actually giggles like a little girl). “Glad to know I can still make you all flustered. I’ll have to use that to my favor later,” he says in a low voice, making Cas shiver. “But again I ask, what makes Cas turn into the Hulk? I just don’t see it in you.”   
    

He take a few minutes to answer. What would turn Cas into the Hulk? He can only think of one thing.   
    

“If someone hurt you, I think that would do it. If someone came and even had the slightest plans to harm you, that would bring out that inner green monster inside me. I can’t even imagine you falling to danger when I’m around, Dean. I won’t allow it.”   
    

The other man immediately stops his work on Cas’ hands to look up into his eyes. “What? Are you saying you’d take a bullet for me or somethin’?”  
    

He tilts his head to the side and gives Dean a confused glance. How could he not understand? “You sound surprised. Of course I would. You mean the world to me, and-,” he hesitates; this isn’t how he planned on doing this, but what the hell- “…I love you, Dean Winchester.”  
    

Dean’s hands immediately still on his, the air ringing with absolute quiet. Cas waits in anticipation as his words hang in the air. He has been wanting to speak those words into existence for months, and now that they are out in the open, he quickly wonders if he did the right thing. Yes, Cas does love Dean, but should he have said so under these circumstances? Was it a stupid thing to do? Does Dean not return the feelings? Was he kidding himself? His mind is racing, and he can feel his heart speeding up as he avoids the Winchester’s gaze.   
    

Then, after what seems like years, the other man speaks. Only two simple words.   
    

“I know.”  
    

Cas’ head snaps up to look into those amused, emerald eyes. The tiny smirk that is playing across Dean’s lips makes his heart palpitate even quicker.   
    

“You know? I declare my love for you and all you have to say is a stupid Star Wars reference?!”   
    

Dean averts his eyes from Cas with that big grin still on his face. “What? Isn’t that like, the biggest declaration of love in the nerd world? What more do you want? Should I sing that Whitney Houston song and do a little dance for you?”   
    

Cas huffs out a breath and rolls his eyes. “Bite me, Dean.”   
    

“Who knows? Maybe I will,” he replies back, giving Cas a tiny smile before he once again moves back to the first aid kit, pulling out a thick roll of gauze this time. An easy silence stretches between them as Cas watches the deft movement of Dean’s hands as they work the gauze around his own in an almost expert way, Dean being more than careful not to cause Cas any more pain. He gets distracted as he watches the Winchester’s strong palms cradle his, taping up the bandages. And when Cas looks down at his now dressed wounds, he feels a pit of warmth rise in his stomach. None of his family would have taken the time to wrap Cas up if he got hurt at home, and even if they did it wouldn’t have been intricate like Dean’s work. The small gesture makes Cas smile, just brightening his love for Dean even more than before.       
    

“There, just like new,” Dean whispers, checking the gauze once more for any loose ends. When he finds none, Cas waits for Dean to return his hands to his sides, but he doesn’t. Instead he keeps Cas’ hands cradled in his own, rubbing his thumb over the small patches of exposed skin. The sensation makes Cas shiver.   
    

“Dean…Thank-” Cas beings, but Dean cuts him off with a shush.   
    

“Shh, no need to thank me. Just you being here is enough thanks. Y’know, not giving up on me even after all this time. Because I need you, Cas. I really need you.”   
    

There. Cas knows Dean isn’t into “chick flick” proclamations of love, but he’s learned all the different ways he says it without declaring it aloud. Dean admitting that he needs anyone at all is enough of a proclamation of love for Cas. He doesn’t need any more encouragement to cross the space separating him and Dean; he gets up from his seat and takes the Winchester’s face in his bandaged palms, not even caring that the pain makes him wince, and captures Dean’s lips with his own.   
    

Dean’s returning kiss is full of fire, all of the grogginess of sleep clearly out of his system. He brings his hands up to meet Cas’ face and slides his palms along his jawline, all while biting Cas’ lips between his teeth. The inferno of passion between them is absolutely sweltering, Cas can’t even imagine letting go of this moment.   
    

However Dean does, but what follows is something Cas could have never expected. He releases Cas’ lips from his own, and throws him one smoldering gaze before sweeping Cas up in his arms, carrying him over to the Impala. Suddenly Cas feels the cold metal of the hood under his body, Dean climbing up next to him. Then those lips Cas loves come and entrap his again, and once again that spark of fire rises like a column of light in the sky.   
    

“Please, Cas,” Dean gets out between ragged kisses, “Stay. Just stay with me.”   
    

“Always,” Cas gasps as Dean’s cold hands find the skin of his chest, pulling Cas’ body closer to his own. “I’ll never leave you, Dean.”   
    

“That’s nice, but not what I meant,” Dean practically growls, laying open mouthed pecks on Cas’ neck. “I meant…please…stay the night.”   
    

Cas freezes. Stay the night? Like stay stay the night? With Dean? In this garage? On a dirty car? Is that what he is suggesting? At first, Cas is scared straight. It isn’t like he’s some expert at this; his sexual history is limited at best, and nothing close to what Dean is suggesting. However, Cas finds himself…not wanting to say no? It’s almost as if this is what he’s been waiting for, that final step to bind the two of them together like never before. It’s scary and new and exciting all at the same time, so Cas does something unexpected.   
    

Before he even truly grasps what he is doing, Cas is pushing Dean down against the Impala and rolls over on top of him, straddling his hips. It’s clear the gesture surprises Dean, and Cas takes the opportunity to lean down and push his lips against Dean’s again, letting his bandaged hands roam under Dean’s shirt and over his sculpted chest.   
    

“Is that a yes?” Dean asks with a smirk.   
    

Cas only starts to unbutton his own shirt with his non-bandaged fingers in response, then throws Dean a wolfish grin. “That’s a yes.”   
    

It’s the only invitation Dean needs. Cas feels Dean’s hands grip him tight and roll him over, lifting him off the Impala. Between the messy kisses between them Dean manages to wrestle open the back door, and lightly pushes Cas onto those worn leather seats. Cas’ heart races as Dean sheds his Van Halen t-shirt, leaving him completely bare chested. His perfect form makes Cas blush; surely he can’t look that good. However, he doesn’t get to think any longer before Dean climbs into the Impala behind him, sliding his body easily over Cas’, bare chests touching.   
    

“So,” Dean asks breathlessly. “Are we doing this?”   
    

Cas is frightened beyond belief, but his adrenaline only pushes him forward.   
    

“Yes, I guess we are.”   
    

And with that, the two almost lovers become lovers, falling into each other.   
  



	7. Chapter 7

The warm sun wakes Dean up the next morning and everything is a groggy blur. For the first few moments of waking, Dean completely feels disoriented. The past night is just a foggy mist that hovers in his mind, the details escaping him. All he knows is that he is in the Impala and that-

Cas. Of course. Cas scaling his window in the middle of the night. Cas sneaking to the garage with him. Him fixing Cas’ wounds. Cas’ hungry lips on his own, Cas’ bandaged wrapped hands roaming over his body even though it must’ve been painful, Cas, Cas, everything was Cas last night, and Dean’s stomach quivers when he remembers what they did, how they connected in ways like never before, how when it was all over Dean finally felt whole for the first time in forever.  
    

Its only when he feels a movement against his chest that he realizes he’s not alone. Cas is still in the Impala wearing only boxer shorts, his legs entangled with Dean’s. His bare chest rises and falls against his own, his breathing slow and steady. He looks absolutely angelic while he sleeps; all of the quiet anxiety that plays across his features while he is awake is gone, only leaving a serene looking man in its place. Dean can’t help himself. He untangles his arm from around Cas’ waist and brings it up to lightly comb through Cas’ hair, leaning down so his lips are against Cas’ shoulder, leaving lazy kisses on his skin.  
    

“…Dean?” Cas groan groggily, his body shifting to look him in the eye.  
    

“Hey handsome,” Dean whispers into Cas’ body, still leaving tiny pecks against his shoulder.  
    

“What time is it?” he questions.  
    

“No clue. Don’t care. You’re here and that’s all that matters.”  
    

Dean gets a tiny smirk from Cas. “What’s with the romance, Romeo? I thought you weren’t into chick flick moments.”  
    

He just ignores Cas’ jibes and continues to leave wet kisses up and down the Novak’s arm. “I can be a sap when I want to be,” he mutters.  
    

“Well, I like this version of you. We should have sex more often if this is what I get afterwards.”  
    

Dean can’t help but laugh. Six months ago Cas would have never uttered those words; he was adorable and awkward, and just Dean’s kisses alone made him stutter and become absolutely flustered. Now he was talking about the fact that had sex in the Impala last night without even blinking an eye. He couldn’t help but smile at how much has changed in the past half year.  
    

“Well, looks like someone didn’t get any sleep last night.”  
    

Dean and Cas both jump at the new voice in the room, hitting their heads on the roof of the Impala. His eyes whirl until he connects the voice to the face, and finds a smug Sam peering through the window.  
    

“Dammit…Sam! What are you doing here?”  
    

His brother throws a glinting smile in his direction, his eyes absolutely full of amusement. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m clearly interrupting something good. I was just going to take the Impala out to get some breakfast, but I can see you’re clearly preoccupied.”  
    

Dean can feel his cheeks burning red at being caught. However his embarrassment is completely forgotten when he realizes Cas looks like a deer in the headlights beneath him, just staring blankly at Sam.  
    

“Uh…” Cas mutters, “It…it isn’t what it looks like! Um…I was just…uh…”  
    

“Cas, it’s okay!” Dean quickly cuts in, entwining his fingers with Cas’ for support. “Sam knows.”  
    

“Sam knows?! About us? For how long?”  
    

“A month now, I believe,” Sam answers, climbing into the front of the Impala. He extends his hand in Cas’ direction. “I guess we haven’t been formerly introduced. I’m Dean’s brother Sam, and you must be that Castiel he’s always blabbing about.”  
    

Dean watches as Cas takes the outstretched hand reluctantly, shaking it lightly. “I’m Castiel Novak,” he says simply. He can already tell Cas is lightening up. It’s hard to be afraid of a guy like Sam; he is like a giant puppy after all.  
    

“Well nice to meet you, Cas. I don’t know what you’re doing hanging around with a guy like Dean; seems a little below your league if you ask me,” Sam says with an easy smile.  
    

“Hey! You wish you could get with this!” Dean says lightly, gesturing to his physique.  
    

“Yeah, you just keep thinking that.”  
    

“Bitch.”  
    

“Jerk. So…are you two still going at it or do you want to grab some breakfast with me?”  
    

Dean smiles and looks over to Cas. He still seems a bit tense, but he nods to Dean in encouragement.  
    

“I would like that,” Cas says lightly, a tiny grin lighting up his face.  
    

“Great. Now, put some clothes on you two so we can go; I’m pretty sure the no shirt, no service rule still applies in most places,” Sam says.  
    

Dean only pushes his brother out of the front seat. “Fine. We’ll be ready in five. Now can we please have some privacy?”  
    

Sam only laughs as he leaves the garage, singing an off key tune. “Can you feeeeel the loooveee to-nightttt…” 

* * *

The three of them end up at a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop in downtown Chicago, a beat up, apartment sized building that some say used to be a strip club in the sixties. Dean would believe it with the way it smells like sweat and old socks, but it has always been a place where him and Sam would find themselves on lazy Sundays, talking about whatever stakeout job their dad had for them, or occasionally talking about what their lives would be like if they didn’t join their father’s mob. It was their place, and bringing Cas here just felt right.  
    

“Well, this is…interesting,” Cas says softly, clearly eyeing the building with a look of distaste.       
    

“Trust me, it takes a long time to get used to, but they do serve the best doughnuts in the state,” Dean replies as they follow the waitress to a booth in the back, Dean and Sam’s usual spot right by a big, open window.  
    

“Well, we will just have to see about that,” Cas says easily as he slides into the booth next to Dean, Sam taking a seat on the opposite side.  
    

Dean just grins at Cas and doesn’t seem to stop for the entire trip. He can’t keep his elation suppressed; he never thought anyone would know about his love for Cas, and yet here he sits with his brother, chatting like family rivalries don’t exist between them. Sam and Cas converse easily with the other, acting like they’ve been friends their entire lives instead of just knowing the other for a few hours. Dean smiles like an idiot anytime Sam laughs at something Cas says, his fingers wrapping around Cas’ knee in support. And when their order of a dozen doughnuts appears at their table, Cas agrees that they are the most heavenly thing he’s ever tasted.  
    

The rest of the day goes similarly. The three of them spend the day downtown, not worrying about who seems them together. Dean and Cas even entwine their fingers together in public, strutting down Michigan Avenue like two lovesick puppies Cas even steals little kisses from Dean during the day, which even makes Sam smile. And when Dean drives Cas back to his house later that night, he honestly feels like he hasn’t had that much fun in ages. Everything seems so perfect, so peaceful.  
    

If only he knew that the good times couldn’t last forever. 

* * *

  
The day Dean’s world comes crashing down around him is a Saturday in May after Cas’ graduation ceremony. Cas aced all of his finals and even graduated with honors, and when his name was called by the president of the school, Dean hollered louder than anyone in the room. Of course he sat far in the back; Dean spotted Michael and Gabriel sitting towards the front, but he likes to think Cas heard him over the din of the crowd, even if he couldn’t see his face. And when the ceremony was over and everyone started to clear the stadium, Dean made a beeline for the doorways, running from the prying eyes of the Novaks.      
    

That’s how he landed himself at this Starbucks off West Adams Street, eagerly awaiting Cas’ arrival. They planned this weeks ago; Cas would talk to his brothers for a bit, and then he would make up some excuse to slip away. He was to meet Dean at this Starbucks so they could go out and celebrate; with a little help from Sam, Dean had a whole night planned out, filled with fancy food and even classier bars later. It took all of his savings, but Cas, his Cas, was worth every penny.  
    

Dean is fidgeting with his wristwatch when the chair across from his scrapes across the floor, causing him to grin at the table.       
    

“Well hello, handsome,” Dean says lightly, eyes still averted. He leans down to retie his shoe when the other voice answers.       
    

“Handsome? I think you’re mistaking me with my cousin, you know, the one in the dirty trench coat who’s in love with you?”       
    

Dean’s head smacks against the table and his blood runs cold when he hears the British accent that clearly doesn’t belong to Cas.  
    

“Ba-Balthazar?” Dean stammers uneasily, his hands gripping the table to hide the fear in his body. He keeps a straight face, but inside he is terrified.    
    

Balthazar Milton is leaning back in a chair, throwing Dean wolfish grin. His hand is obscured, but Dean still catches the glint of silver in his palm. He brought a knife into a public place? Idiot, Dean thinks, but he doesn’t to voice his words. He can hardly do anything than stare at the other man blankly, his mind racing for an exit strategy.  
    

The Milton leans forward towards Dean, bringing his lips close to his ear. “I think we need to have a chat, Mr. Winchester. In private. Follow me, unless you want trouble coming your way.”  
    

Dean doesn’t even blink. “Bite me.”  
    

Balthazar leans back and looks Dean sternly in the eye. “Oh look, the imbecile has comebacks. Let me be clear; come with me if you want your precious Cas to be safe. I’m not above hurting him; do we understand one another?”  
    

Dean’s mind races with a way to get out of this, but when he finds none he ends up following Balthazar and two other men out the back doors and into a dark, abandoned alleyway a few blocks down the road. Dean realizes that there is nobody around if these thugs decide to take him out. His body could be laying here for days without being noticed. His heart starts beating faster with the tension.       
    

“Now, where were we…” Balthazar begins. Dean has a really snarky comeback on his tongue, but he doesn’t get it out before the Milton slams his fist into Dean’s face, causing him to stumble back with the impact. A second later one of Balthazar’s thugs has his pinned against the wall while the Milton brings that sliver blade up to Dean’s neck, black dots blurring his vision.  
    

“What the hell do you want?” Dean spits in Balthazar’s face, tensing away from the blade. “How did you find out?”  
    

The Milton just laughs darkly. “How did I find out, you ask? Well, you two are rubbish at secrecy. I’ve hunted you long enough to know your scent, Dean, and it was all over that dirty trench coat last time I paid a visit. Plus it doesn’t hurt that the Milton’s have eyes everywhere. I see everything, Dean Winchester, and your little relationship with Castiel has been clear since the day it began.  
    

And what do I want? I want nothing from you, boy. You can screw my cousin until the world ends for all I care, but this message isn’t from me. I’ve got orders, Dean. Just like you. And my higher up knows about you and our precious little Castiel, and he isn’t happy.”  
    

“Whoever your higher up is can screw himself; what Cas and I do isn’t any of his business,” Dean growls.  
    

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Winchester. My boss is very concerned about his Cas doing the dirty with your kind,” Balthazar says with a grimace, hedging the knife closer to Dean’s chin. He steps closer into Dean’s space, making him tense immediately. “Cas has amazing potential to be a powerful pawn in this little feud of ours, and the boss thinks you’re making him soft. He has ordered that you leave Cas alone, or else face the consequences.”  
    

Dean blows out air in the other man’s face, chuckling when Balthazar leans back in disgust. “Cas has potential to be a killer like you? Since when? That guy couldn’t hurt a fly. And what consequences? What do you have over me? I’m a high school dropout with six dollars to my name; you’ve got nothing and you know it, Milton.”  
    

Balthazar slowly lowers the knife, bringing both hands up to Dean’s shirt collar instead, gripping it tightly. “Oh, I wouldn’t say I don’t have anything over you, Winchester. You bestow much confidence in your family, I can tell. I’m sure you think they would be safe against any attack I throw at them, but you forget that the Milton’s are masters at the element of surprise, and it worked out quite well when I paid a visit to your family this morning.”  
    

He freezes. Balthazar is bluffing, he must be. His father would be able to hold off a few Milton hit-men, and Sammy always keeps a gun on his person. He tells himself that they are safe at home, that the Milton’s did not capture his family, but for some reason he can’t get himself to believe it. Something about Balthazar’s words ring true in his mind, and it makes his blood run icy.  
    

“You…you’re lying,” Dean stammers uneasily. “You have to be.”  
    

“I’m not lying, Dean,” he says sadly, shaking his head back and forth slowly. “Your father managed to fight us off but left your brother behind to our men. He’s in our custody now as a ransom. The deal is this: you give up Castiel, and we release your brother unharmed. If you fail to do so, then he dies. Are we clear?”  
    

“And why should I believe you?” Dean says angrily, even though he knows his argument is getting weak. Balthazar wouldn’t threaten these things if they weren’t true.  
    

“Because I’m taking you to see him right now, back at the Novak mansion. He’s being held right under Castiel’s nose and Cas doesn’t have the slightest clue. I heard your brother screaming for Cas when we locked him up this morning. It was quite tragic, indeed.”  
    

“Then take me to him, you bastards! I’m not agreeing to anything until you prove it.”  
    

“Of course, Winchester; I wouldn’t have expected otherwise.” Balthazar steps back and releases Dean from his grip, letting him stagger against the wall. “Follow me and I will show you I’m truthful in my words; stay behind and your brother dies, so it would be in your best interest to come along.”  
    

Dean knows he’s beat, so he reluctantly follows the Milton into the crowded Chicago streets and into a shaded back limousine, watching as the city limits- and if he is being honest with himself all of his hope- fly behind them. 

* * *

  
The ride is filled with silence and tension as Dean fiddles with his hands nervously. His mind races with what they could be doing to Sam right now. Would they torture? It wouldn’t be beyond the Milton moral code, he’s sure. He can only imagine his Sammy tied up in chains with one of the Milton’s throwing endless punches, carving into his skin. He wonders who it will be. Raphael, maybe? He would be brutal. Hael looks delicate but he knows she can weld a knife like a pro, and Hester was known for her nails, so sharp they could cut a man’s skin with only one swipe. She didn’t gain the nickname Tiger for nothing.  
    

Dean knew they were getting close when the ride became bumpy. The Miltons didn’t live in the city like the other mobsters; they preferred to keep their mansion on the outskirts of the city in a lavish town called Barrington, a place where the rich lived like kings with grandiose houses, filling their acres of land with equestrians and other animals. The Miltons were no different. Dean looked out the window and encountered the house he had scouted many times, a giant Tudor home with extravagant windows and trimmings. Two similar houses stand on either side of the mansion across a few acres of grassy land, but far enough away where it wouldn’t intrude on the Milton territory. To the neighbors, the Miltons must look like any normal, high class American family; if only they knew a hostage was behind those polished doors.  
    

The limo pulls up to a back garage area and Dean waits for the thugs to drag him out. The sun is dipping low in the horizon, casting an orange glow over the property. It would have been beautiful if circumstances weren’t so terrifying.  
    

“Walk,” one of the thugs commands as he rips Dean out of the vehicle, pushing him inside the garage and into a tiny elevator, the others following slowly behind.  
    

“You don’t have to command me, Tubs,” Dean says harshly. “I know how to move.”  
    

With a grunt, the thug pushes the button labeled 9B and Dean isn’t even surprised when he feels a revolver push into his back.  
    

“Huh, that better be a gun unless you’re just really excited to see me,” Dean mutters.  
    

“I wouldn’t start with the sarcastic remarks, Winchester,” Balthazar drawls from the other side of the cab. “Your brother’s fate is in a pretty delicate state, and you know Hael would love for her first kill to be your brother. I would back off my men, if I were you.”  
    

Dean would throw back a sarcastic remark, but the Milton is right; he can’t risk Sammy’s life for the sake of sarcasm, so he reluctantly falls silent along with the other men, staring straight ahead at the metal doors in front of him.  
    

After what feels like hours, the elevator pings and opens up into a dank, musky basement area. Dean isn’t going to lie, he expected more chains and torture dungeons, but all he finds is a rack filled with knifes and other blades, some guns, and a bucket of questionable liquid. What concerns him most is that he can’t see Sam anywhere, until he hears his brother’s voice cry out in pain down the hallway.  
    

He automatically starts running. “Sammy!” he calls loudly, his heart pumping like a drum in his chest, his feet slipping on the dank pavement under his soles, his hands automatically searching for the gun that he knows isn’t there.  
    

“Dean?” A moan rings out from the room Dean just passed. He skitters back and slides to a stop inside, horrified at what he sees.       
    

Sam is hurt badly. Through all of the fights with the Novaks and Miltons over the years Sam usually was the one who stayed unscathed, bandaging Dean up when he got too physical with one of them. Never did he expect to ever see Sam in this state, bloodied and hanging from pentagram shaped handcuffs, chained to a wall with Hael Milton dragging a knife over his bare chest. Red covers Sam’s body, scratches and cuts bleeding heavily. He looks dazedly on Dean, almost as if he doesn’t truly knows where he is. Dean swears he can hear his heart break, or maybe it is just the sound of his knees hitting the floor.  
    

“Ah, Dean Winchester,” Hael drawls out slowly, removing the knife from Sam’s skin to approach Dean. “What a pleasure.”  
    

“Let him go,” Dean says tensely, crossing his arms over his chest. He throws her a distasteful glare. “You don’t want him.”  
    

“I wouldn’t say that, Dean,” she says vehemently. “All Winchesters are enemies of the Miltons in my eyes, and I would love to rip your brother’s out of his sockets.”  
    

“Enough, Hael. Not today,” Balthazar says lightly, pushing his sister aside. “You will have your time against the Winchesters, but today is not the day. We have a deal to uphold, my dear sister.”  
    

“Dean? What is he talking about?” Sam moans from across the room, straining against the handcuffs. The sight makes Dean stomach turn.  
    

“I…,” Dean begins, but he doesn’t know how to get the words out. The whole situation seems like a dream state to him, living in a state of unreality. “I…made a deal with Balthazar. I end things with Cas and you walk free. And I said yes.”  
    

Dean expects a lot of things from Sam. Of course he thought Sam would argue, he always does, but he didn’t expect Sam to get up enough strength to hoist himself up onto his wrists and kick Dean in the stomach.  
    

“Are you crazy?!,” Sam groans as he collapses against the wall again. “Cas is the best thing that has ever happened to you. You’re not letting him go because of me, Dean. They’ll just come for me anyways. Please…don’t do this. Not for me.”  
    

“Are you crazy?!” Dean screams back. “You’re my brother and that trumps anything. We’re blood, Sammy. And don’t think there is anything past or present that I would put in front of you! Now I’m getting you out of here, like it or not. You hear me?”  
    

“Dean…” Sam trails off, eyes gazing at the ground. “I can’t let you do that.”  
    

“And why not?”  
    

“Because I’m the least of all of you!,” Sam screams so loudly even the Miltons stagger back. “You’re a better hitman than me; you’re a genius! You’re everything I aspire to be and never will be, so just leave me here and go to Cas. Run away from here. Have a life. Adopt a cat together and call it Sam or something, just don’t throw your life away for me!”  
    

“Sammy, how can you care so little about yourself?”  
    

“Because I care about your happiness more.”  
    

“You’re suggesting that I leave you here with these douches just so I can have an apple pie life with Cas?”  
    

“Yes,” Sam says sadly.  
    

Dean leans in close to Sam’s ear. “Sam, I won’t leave you here. Now I’m going to do what I have to and then come back and get you, okay? I’m not leaving you here and you’re not going to convince me otherwise. Besides,” he whispered even quieter, “I think I may have a plan in mind. Just wait, okay?”  
    

Dean can tell Sam isn't pleased, that little angry smirk he gets when he's irritated is on his lips, but he still nods against Dean’s shoulder. “Okay,” he whispers back "but you better have a plan that involves keeping Cas around. I won't let you lose him."  
    

Dean walks away and stares Balthazar in the face. “Alright, I’ll go and hold up my end first, but once I get back Sammy walks free. Go back on your deal and I shoot you.”  
    

Balthazar nods at him solemnly. “You’re making a wise choice, Dean. Cas would be better off without you and I think we both know that.” He snaps his fingers as the two thugs reappear. “Gentlemen, please escort Mr. Winchester back into the city. I think he has a job to do.”  
    

Dean doesn’t even argue as he is led back upstairs and away from Sam, into that limo. He doesn’t say a word as the men drive him back into the city. All he does is rack his mind endlessly for a way to get out of this, a way to escape from Balthazar, free Sam, and still keep his life with Cas. He told Sam he has a plan when he really doesn't. He knows it was the only way Sam would let him walk free.

But what if he did have a plan? His mind starts to form an idea. He can only think of one way, and he knows it is crazy. He knows it will never work, but at this point he doesn’t care.  
    

He can only think of one way to win this game. They will have to run wide and far, escape the city. They will have to leave all family aside. They will have to leave any life they’ve known for a life of insecurity. They will have to claim a life of free will for themselves, him, Sam, and Cas.  
    

Dean’s mind races with the possibility. A life away from the mob. A life with Cas by his side, and his brother safe from the grimy hands of the Novaks. A fresh start for all of them, a life of free will and choice. And with enough planning, it could work.  
    

Dean can’t help himself; he chuckles when the plan starts to form, and he breaks out in absolute joyous laughter when he realizes it could work. It will work, he will make sure of that.  
    

“What are you laughing at, boy?” the thug driving scolded from the front.  
    

Dean smiles. “Nothing, sir.” _Just Operation Team Free Will coming underway._

Note: This chapter was hell to write so I'm sorry the update took so long! The other updates will be much faster and the action is going to pick up a lot until the end. Sorry this was sort of a filler chapter, but I promise there is lots of action and angst coming your way.


	8. Chapter 8

The exact second the ominous limo stops in front of the Novak mansion, Dean doesn’t hesitate to throw open the door and run inside without inhibition. Screw anyone who sees him now; with his plan in place they will all be gone by midnight, skipping town for the freedom the three of them deserve. He takes the grand staircase three steps as a time as he bounds his way to Cas’ bedroom, praying to whatever force that lies above them that he is there and ready to listen.  
   

With his heart pounding loudly in his chest, Dean skids unceremoniously to a stop in front of the doors he knows so well. For a split second he stands and stares; a sudden thought rips through his consciousness like a bullet. What if Cas says no? What if he doesn’t want to give up this life of luxury and excess for cheap motels and burger joints? Here Cas has everything he’s could ever want. Who would give up a life like this for Dean?  
    

He would think farther, but he suddenly realizes that he has no time. In order of this plan to work they will have to be conniving and convincing, fast and furious. Without a second thought he punches open the door.  
    

Dean says a quick thanks to the forces that were working in his favor. Cas is pacing the room uneasily, rubbing small circles into his palm. When the doors fly open his gaze is full of surprise, and then quickly turns into one of absolute anger.  
    

“Dean,” Cas says harshly, walking over and shoving the doors shut behind him. “Where the hell have you been?”  
    

“Cas-,” he starts to say, but immediately gets cut off.  
    

“You know what phones are for, Dean? Answering when they ring! I called you a thousand times when you didn’t show up at our rendezvous point and thought someone got to you or something.”  
    

“Cas, just listen please!” Dean pleads, moving towards Cas. He doesn’t hesitate to pull the Novak into a tight embrace, leaning his head into the other man’s shoulders. Who knows when they will have a minute alone again. “They did get to me, okay? Balthazar intercepted me at the coffee shop. They know, Cas. They know everything about us. And…” Dean can’t help himself; he chokes up when he thinks about it, “…they’ve got Sam.”  
    

Cas automatically pushes out of Dean’s embrace. His face isn’t what Dean would expect. It is hard, cold, calculating. And in an instant, Dean knows what is running through Cas’ head. His inner Hulk is emerging in the face of danger.  
    

“Excuse me?” Cas says in a robotic tone, his icy stare slicing through the quiet.  
    

“I don’t know how they found out, Cas. Balthazar says he has people everywhere and someone told him about us. So as a ransom they took Sam, and said he will only be released if you and I break up. But I think I have a plan crazy enough to work.”  
    

The other man steps back calmly, looking fierce like the eye of the storm. He sits on the bed and gestures for Dean to join him, and doesn’t hesitate to interlock their hands together.  
    

“This is serious business if my cousin knows. The news has probably spread everywhere already, which means my entire family probably is informed by now. So if you’ve got a plan, it better be brilliant and it better work, or else we are all screwed.”  
    

Dean doesn’t say anything at first. He sits in the quiet surrounding them and squeezes Cas’ hand gently, that calm reassurance in times of trouble that keeps him moving. Cas has always been the eye of the storm for Dean, and right now he needs that anchor, that rock who will just tell Dean that everything will be okay. So he relishes in the moment, his hand wrapped around Cas’, the easy silence between them. Dean knows the war is coming, the war for freedom from this feud, but with Cas by his side, he knows they can win.  
    

“Okay.” Dean says, breaking the stillness of the air after a few minutes. “Hear me out. The plan is simple, and it may fail, but I can’t afford to think like that right now.”  
    

And so Dean relays his entire plan to Cas, every little detail he had thought over spilling from his lips, the words coming so fast that Dean has to stop for breath. In his head the plan is flawed and has its issues, but may be just crazy enough to work. He relays all of this to Cas, who just sits with an amused smile on his face.  
    

After Dean gets it all out, Cas just stares straight ahead, his face clearly calculating. And then after moments of prolonged silence, he speaks.       
    

“That is the worse plan I’ve ever heard!” Cas exclaims with a sarcastic smile, throwing his hands in the air. “Dean, that can never work. You underestimate my family by your biases; they will see right through this ruse.”  
    

Dean grunts, shoving up from the bed in frustration. “Well do you have any other ideas? This is all we’ve got and we have got to move now before Balthy catches on. Now we can either take our chances with my plan or sit here on our asses and get killed. So, you coming?”  
    

Cas just sighs. “Of course.”

* * *

  
“You ready?” Cas asks uneasily, throwing Dean a nervous glance.  
    

Dean can feel the blood rushing through his veins as he parks the Impala behind the Milton mansion (bless Cas’ soul for letting Dean retrieve it before they left; he couldn’t do this without his Baby by his side.) Everything he wants, everything he needs is about to be either given to him or ripped away, and he can’t help but feel the panicky thrum of adrenaline in his body. Dean is anything but ready, but he doesn’t have a choice now.  
    

“I’m ready,” he replies uneasily, his voice a little bit faulty.  
    

“Dean, it’s going to be okay,” Cas says calmly, grabbing Dean’s hand from the gripping the seat. “I won’t let them hurt you, I promise.”  
    

“Its not me I’m worried about,” Dean whispers, turning his head away from Cas.  
    

“I’ll be fine, and Sam will too. This plan is crazy and stupid on so many levels, but we’ll make it work.”  
    

Dean just smiles. “Okay, Tim Gunn.”  
    

Cas shoves him lightly against the door frame before he exists. “Now that’s the Dean I know.” He gives the Winchester one last little smile before he exits the car and automatically switches to the persona they practiced on the way over. He stalks his way to the door and pounds unnecessarily loud, screaming for someone to let him in before he breaks the door down. It is a bit overdone in Dean’s opinion, but it gets the job completed. One of Balthazar’s thugs opens the door for Cas and lets him inside, and Dean’s pocket chimes with the text a few seconds later. _in the lions den._  
    

Dean leans back against the seat and kicks his feet up on the dashboard, trying to relax, but anxiety isn’t giving him a break. He runs a hand through his hair, wrings his hands together, even tries to take in big gulps of air, but nothing works. Until he’s on the road to their freedom, he can’t even feign calmness. He hates the feeling of anxiety in his veins, the tingly jitters that rise in his stomach and feet. He can’t sit still when he’s this way, and that makes him a liability. He never gets nervous on jobs; that’s why he’s always been considered the best, so why must he start now?  
    

“Get it together, Winchester,” he mutters under his breath, his eyes scanning the massive lawn for anyone who could find him. He starts counting the minutes in his head. Five minutes turns into ten, then ten to fifteen, and then fifteen to thirty. What is taking Cas so long? He almost decides to screw this entire plan and go in after him when, finally, his phone chimes. _operation team free will is a go. he bought it. coming out now._  
    

Go time. Dean watches his hand reach for the door handle, even feels the grip that pulses around it, but he can’t come to open it. His whole body is shaking, his lungs suddenly gasping for air. His stomach feels like it is going to heave at any second, and his vision is starting to blur, on the verge of passing out. His mind racks around for what this sensation is but isn’t coming up with anything concrete before it fades away.       
    

The only thing that slightly brings him back to his senses is the car door clicking open next to him. Cas slides inside easily with a clear look of confusion on his features.  
    

“Dean? You’re supposed to be inside the house-wait…are you having a panic attack?”  
    

There’s the word that slipped his mind. _Panic attack._ Dean Winchester is having his first panic attack and it is about to ruin their entire plan, their only path to freedom. Of course it would be him that messes it all up, he thinks. It always is.  
    

“Dean? I need you to listen to me, okay?” Cas says frantically, sliding over next to him. “You need to focus now; deep breaths, think of why you’re here. Once this is over we’re free. We can have a life of peace away from all of this, so I need you to stay calm, alright?”  
    

Cas’ voice washes over Dean’s being and he can feel himself coming down. Funny how just the presence of the Novak can bring him back to the earth with only his words, seeping into Dean’s skin and instantly leveling him. After a few moments of just Cas muttering little ‘there there’s’ and rubbing circles on Dean’s shoulder, his heart rate slows and his body relaxes, leaning into Cas’ touch.  
    

“Are you okay now?” Cas whispers softly, leaning his head close to Dean’s.  
    

The Winchester nods with a grimance on his lips. “I think so.”  
    

“I’m glad. We’re almost there, Dean. I can feel it. We can do this, together, okay? Now go get your brother and I’ll be waiting here for you both. And Dean,” Cas whispers, gripping Dean’s hand tightly, “…please be careful.”  
    

Dean only nods, receiving one quick peck from Cas before he ventures out of the car and into enemy headquarters. The last thing he sees before he rounds the corner is Cas’ gleaming face, and it is exactly what he needs to continue on. With the new determinationn in his being, Dean enters the building and waits.

* * *

  
“Ah, Winchester. That didn’t take long at all. I’m impressed.”  
    

Dean didn’t have to wait for five seconds before one of Balthazar’s men manhandled him from behind when he entered the garage, shoving him once more into that tiny elevator. Only this time Dean didn’t say a word as he was pushed in front of Balthazar, who was running his hand through an unconscious Sam’s hair. The sight made Dean’s stomach turn and it took all of his power not to shoot the Milton right there.  
    

“Cut the crap, Balthazar. I did my part of the deal, and now its your turn. Give me back my brother you son of a bitch before I shoot you.”  
    

The Milton steps away from Sam, walking towards Dean with exaggerated slowness. “Oh Dean, you think getting Sam back would be that easy?”  
    

Dean automatically stands up straighter, looking the Milton in the eye. His hand twitches towards the gun Cas gave him, itching to just take it out and end this right here, right now, but he doesn’t. His body stays absolutely still, giving nothing away. “We had a deal-,”  
    

“And now we don’t. Do you know what position you walked into, Winchester? I’ve got your precious brother at my disposal, and I know you would, you will, do anything to save him. You’re my little bitch, Dean, and I’m your master. I’ve got the power here, and I think I will keep your little Sammy around as a plaything. I’ve always loved the tall ones.”  
    

“You little-”  
    

“Ah, ah, ah! I would watch your words, Dean.” The Milton eyes him like a predator, seeming like Dean is his next meal. “I’ve got the upper hand here.”  
    

Dean cringes as he feels someone approach behind him and stick a revolver into his back. That’s it. Game over. He’s straight out of luck, Sammy’s captured, and now it looks like Dean is too. _Of course. What else would come out of my plans? I’m so damn stupid, and a failure, and now-_  
    

“But do you really have the power here, cousin?”  
    

Dean’s gaze snaps away from Balthazar to someone much more terrifying in that moment. Cas is poised across the room looking absolutely lethal; his gun is pointed directly at the Milton and his eyes are like tiny blue flames, his muscles tensed and ready to strike like an angry cobra.  
    

Balthazar turns around with exaggerated slowness and throws his hands in the air. “Oh, Castiel. You really are stupid, aren’t you? I gave you an out here when you came to me with your sob story. It was very unbelievable, by the way. Better work on those acting skills, cousin.”  
    

“So you didn’t buy it after all?” Cas says harshly, walking forward with his gun still posed. “And you let me go anyway? Why?”  
    

“You may be a lovesick idiot, but you’re still blood. I thought I would give you the chance to run, leave your boyfriend and his brother behind. But I guess now that you’re choosing Winchester blood over your own family, you’re the enemy now. Oh how fun it will be to kill you, Castiel. You are quite the annoyance, you know.”  
    

“Not if I kill you first,” Cas growls.  
    

Dean sees it coming, but it still doesn’t stop the shock from rocketing through his body. Balthazar’s thug removes the revolver from Dean’s back and makes three quick shots at Cas. Amazingly Cas dodges them all and counters with a quick shot to the thug's head. The man falls dead at Dean’s feet.  
    

“Cas, think about what you’re doing!” Balthazar screams angrily, stomping forward. “I have the power here!”  
    

Cas’ smile turns predatory as he stalks towards his cousin. “No, Balthazar. You don’t. Maybe one time you did, but today you’re my little bitch.”  
    

Everything moves in slow motion after that. Dean watches as Balthazar reaches for the gun in his back pocket, but he’s not quick enough. Cas is armed, ready, and angry.  
    

Bam. The bullet leaves the gun and hits Balthazar in the chest.  
    

Bam. Balthazar looks down at the bullet hole in his stomach as Cas fires another shot into his head.  
    

Bam. Balthazar’s body hits the ground with ultimate finality, his eyes still open in shock as the warm blood pools around him, staining the floor red.  
    

And then, there is ultimate silence as Cas stands still, looking coldly down at his cousin’s body.  
    

“Cas…” Dean whispers, eyes fixed on the body at his feet. “What just happened? That wasn’t part of the plan!”       
    

Cas just walks over to Balthazar’s body and starts poking around his pockets, coming out with a key in hand a few seconds later. He walks wordlessly over to Sam and releases him from the chains, hoisting Sam’s bloodied body over his shoulder.  
    

“That was what I like to call plan B, and it worked a hell of a lot better than your plan. Balthazar was an ass who wanted to hurt you and I don’t have time to feel guilty right now. We’ve got to go,” Cas says coldly. “They would have heard the shots upstairs and will find the body soon. We’ve got to run, and now.”  
    

Dean only nods and follows Cas up the side stairs, baffling at how someone built like Cas can carry a guy like Sam. They’re halfway up the staircase when Sam starts to come to, his eyes groggily opening.  
    

“What’s going on?” Sam slurs heavily, his head falling against Cas’ shoulder.  
    

“Sammy, its going to be okay,” Dean whispers, pushing the hair out of his face. “You’re almost safe now. We’re getting out of here and we’re going to be fine.”  
    

He doesn’t get to say more though before Cas shoves open the door and runs into the night, finding Dean’s Impala sitting in the cover of some trees. The night sky is starry, a sight that would have been peaceful under any under circumstance. Now it only was a reminder that daylight was on their tails and they had to be long gone before it hit.       
    

Dean opens the door quickly and revs the car to a start while Cas gets Sam situated in the back. He looks in the rearview mirror anxiously as Cas straps Sam's unconscious body into the seat, grabbing a shirt from the bag Dean packed to mop up the blood on his chest. Dean knows all he can do now is hope Sam stays stable until they get out of state, and the fact that he can’t do anything to help him makes Dean’s stomach flop. He’s always been there for Sam, the one protecting him from the dangers of the world they live in, and now he’s hopeless and hapless and has the power out of his hands.  
    

“He’s pretty banged up, but I’m sure he’s going to pull through.”  
    

Dean was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Cas slide into the front seat and lay his hand on Dean’s shoulder. His body relaxes as he feels Cas’ touch thrum through his system.       
    

“It’s just hard, Cas. I’m supposed to protect him and I failed. How can he forgive me for letting him get captured like that?”  
    

Cas leans forward and wraps his arms awkwardly around Dean’s frame. “You worry too much; it wasn’t your fault that Sam got captured. None of this is your fault.”  
    

Dean just sighs as Cas releases him, driving the car off the Milton lot just as a scream loud enough to break the barriers of the walls reverberates through the air.

* * *

  
The Novak mansion is dark when Dean pulls up behind it, hiding the car once again in the cover of the massive oak trees on the lawn. Dean and Cas leave a sleeping Sam in the backseat and quietly sneak into the house, not daring to even say a word. Everything is quiet, too quiet in Dean’s opinion, but he doesn’t make a sound right now. He winces at the creak of the floorboards as him and Cas tiptoe up the stairs, and only allows himself to breathe when they are in the safety of Cas’ room.  
    

Cas wastes no time to throw whatever he can find into a duffel bag, Dean tossing him various items from his closet without looking.  
    

“We’ve got to go quickly,” Cas stresses, the nervous lines between his eyes appearing. “Who knows where they are and when they’ll be back.”  
    

Dean only nods while he throws the last of Cas’ shirts at him and is already gunning for the door while Cas grabs his things. This is it, he realizes. They are finally going to be able to be together without the family feuds, without the stress of hiding, without the threats over their heads. It almost makes Dean joyful, but he knows they are not out of the woods yet.  
    

He is smiling as he opens the door, but freezes immediately.  
    

Because he’s staring right into the barrel of a gun, and the man who is holding it is someone Dean never expected to meet.  
    

The only sound that breaks the silence is Cas’ voice, and it says the words Dean never in a thousand years wanted to hear.       
    

“…Dad?”


	9. Chapter 9

Lucifer Novak is a lot of things. He’s strong, terrifying, the family “godfather,” and never shows his face if he can help it. Cas hasn’t seen his father in months, the only updates coming from the rare times Michael or Balthazar were granted access into the man’s secret room upstairs, a place Cas himself has never encountered. Occasionally Lucifer will pop down to say a quick hello to his sons, but it is never long and it is always attached with a task for one of them.   
      
It is for that reason Cas is caught offguard when he encounters his father in the doorway, a gun pointed directly at Dean’s forehead. They both freeze as they take in the man before them, a guy whose whole being screams ‘dangerous’. He stands poised to kill, the gun unwavering in his tough grip, his gleaming, brown eyes unnerving as they take in the two boys before him, clearly unhesitant to shoot if need be. Cas even notes that he dressed up for the occasion; he’s decked out in his best suit that Cas only sees at two occasions: when they’re at parties or when his father is about to make a kill. And since there is no balloons or music in sight, Cas’ body tenses up for a fight.   
      
“Castiel, what is the meaning of this?” Lucifer says calmly, coldly, and slowly.   
      
Cas only backs up into the room as his father advances, pushing Dean backwards with the barrel of his gun. He doesn’t even have to think twice before he shoves Dean behind him, acting as a human shield if need be. He promised his lover that he’d never let him get hurt, and he plans on keeping that vow.   
      
“I’m leaving, father,” Cas replies with a harsh glare. “I have no ties to your kind.”   
      
“Your kind? Do you not have Novak blood running through your veins, Castiel? We are one and the same, and there are always ties, son-,”  
      
“Don’t call me that,” Cas growls, advancing forwards towards his father, his hand instinctively twitching to the gun in his pocket. “You are hardly my father and I’m hardly your son. I haven’t seen your face in months, and you would throw me to the dogs if need be. Fathers don’t do that to their children.”  
      
“I’m not looking for technicalities right now,” Lucifer says with a harsh smile. It looks startlingly alike to Cas’ own that his stomach clenches in disgust. “You’re my son if you like it or not, and as my own I command you to move aside so I can shoot this sonovabitch you’re screwing in the head!”   
      
“You can’t command me, not anymore. If you want to get to him, then you’re going to have to go through me.” As if to prove his point, Cas stands directly in front of Dean, grabbing the gun from his jacket to point it directly at his father. “Do you wish to test who is faster with a trigger, or will you let us leave in peace?”   
      
Lucifer laughs menacingly, pushing the barrel right into Cas’ chest. “Try me, son. Michael taught you everything you know, and I taught him. You don’t stand a chance against me. I don’t want to kill you, Castiel, but I will if I have to. The Winchesters are poison, and it will only be a matter of time before they leave you broken by the wayside. Stay with us and I can give you everything you desire.”   
      
“No, you really can’t.” Cas steps back and wraps an arm around the Winchester’s waist, drawing him into his side. “Because the only thing I want is Dean.”   
      
“Cas,” Dean whispers softly, “Be careful-.”  
      
“Screw being careful now, Dean,” Cas replies quickly. “This is going down one way or another, and it looks like we’re about to fight. You ready for this?”  
      
Dean huffs out a breath. “So what? I’m Thelma and you’re Louise and we’re just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together?”  
      
“Looks like it.”   
      
Cas sees that wolfish grin slide across Dean's face. “Then bring it on.”   
      
Everything happens in a flash then. Dean reaches in his back pocket and pulls out the gun he has stashed there, and without hesitation shoots a bullet into Lucifer’s foot. The man howls in pain but keeps a hold on his weapon, firing blinding into the air. Cas drops his gun, ducks to the ground, and barely misses his father’s shot, the bullet grazing his shoulder. The pain rocks through Cas’ body, so much that the only thing he can make out in the chaos is Dean’s voice screaming his name, Dean’s hands coming to inspect the wound, Dean by his side even in this time of absolute danger. However that leaves Dean totally distracted, and Cas doesn’t see his father crawling across the floor until it is too late.   
      
“DEAN. LOOK OUT!” Cas screams, but the click of the gun has already reverberated through the air. The bullet flies through the atmosphere and is going right at Dean’s heart. Cas cringes as he anticipates the shot that will break his vow, will kill the only good thing in his life.   
      
But then something amazing happens. Something even Cas couldn’t have expected. A body dives in front of Dean and takes the hit, the bullet finding purchase in the man’s shoulder. Cas doesn’t get a good look at who took the shot until the person rolls over, and even then Cas has to blink a thousand times to make sure he’s not hallucinating.   
      
Gabriel.  
  
 _…Gabriel?_ His brother, Gabriel, who seemingly hates any and all Winchesters, just took a bullet for one?      
      
“Well, that’s going to sting,” Gabriel grunts in pain.  
      
“Gabriel, what on earth do you think you’re doing?” Lucifer groans from across the room, throwing an absolutely lethal look in his direction.   
      
Cas watches as his brother gets up from the floor in a struggle, moving to separate Cas and Dean from Lucifer’s gaze. “I’m here to defend these two schmoes because they clearly can’t do it themselves.”   
      
“Why? When did you find out about us?” Dean growls, his eyes still transfixed on the bullet wound in Cas’ shoulder.   
      
“From the first time I saw you two in that bar, genius,” Gabriel says grandly, clearly ignoring the fact that a piece of metal is lodged in his body. “You two were so obvious a common caveman probably could have figured it out! I didn’t mention it because I had too much fun watching two yahoos trying to cover it up. Brought me quite the entertainment these past few months.”  
      
Cas doesn’t know what to say. Did everyone know about his relationship with Dean? And here they thought they were being so careful…  
      
“But why defend us? I thought you hated me,” Dean replies harshly, getting up from the floor to push Gabriel against the wall. “Why should I trust you? How do I know you’re not working with him?” Dean shoves his finger in Lucifer’s direction, one hand coming up to grab Gabe’s collar. “Novaks don’t take bullets for Winchesters.”  
      
“You really are damn stupid sometimes, you know that?,” Gabe says sarcastically, throwing Dean a look of pure mocking. “A guy takes a bullet for you and then you question his loyalties? If it isn’t obvious, I’m choosing sides here. It's not Novak vs. Winchester anymore; its what is right vs. what is wrong, and killing you seems wrong, okay? And by the way, that bullet still really hurts so if you would let me go, that would be stellar.”   
      
Dean drops Gabe who falls to the ground, groaning and clutching his shoulder.       
      
“Gabriel, think about what you’re doing here,” Lucifer says menacingly, getting from the floor to hobble over to Gabriel, poising the gun right at his forehead. “You choose them then you’re choosing the side of Winchester, and I didn’t raise my son to be a traitor.”  
      
Gabe laughs and Cas watches in horror as his brother leans forward, closing the distance between him and the barrel, acting like the cold metal is going to shoot confetti and not a bullet. And then he says the words Cas would never dare say but always thought. “Lucifer, you’re my father and I love you, but you really are a great big bag of dicks.”  
      
Lucifer automatically recoils like he’s been slapped and throws Gabriel the darkest look Cas has ever seen. He reels backs and removes the barrel of the gun from Gabe’s forehead, deciding that a harsh punch to the face would do better instead. Cas can’t help himself; he jumps when the sound of bone hitting bone reverberates through the air and his brother cries out in pain, Cas fuming that he’s too injured himself to go and defend the only family member he actually cares about.   
      
“You dare speak like that to me? I made you who you are! How dare you choose the side of Winchester filth! Those flawed, insolent-”  
      
“Damn right they’re flawed!” Gabriel calls back, jumping up despite the shoulder wound to look his father in the eye. “But you know what? These Winchester schmoes are better than either of us. They see a better life and they’re taking it. Would I ever be that brave to look you in the eye and say I’m walking away? Hell no! Now say what you want about our Castiel, but he’s the strongest one in this entire family, and because of that I’m not on your side or the Winchesters; I’m on theirs.”  
      
For the tiniest second the world is still. Cas sees his father looking at Gabriel with absolute hatred brewing in his gaze, but no moves are made. Gabe is leaning against the wall now, clutching his injured shoulder that is now bleeding onto his hand, throwing Lucifer a quietly pained look, one that does not construe hatred but instead is one full of sadness. The sight makes Cas feel sick and brings up the urge to fight his father, to punch that face until it is bruised and battered, but he’s injured and stuck on the floor with no weapons or way of fighting, his only support being Dean at his side smoothing out the pain with his hand. But seeing Gabe this way is heartbreaking. A guy like Gabe whose joy radiates like the sun should not be able to give a look that broken.       
      
But then the next thing he knows the silence breaks with an explosion and Cas is screaming.   
      
It happens so quickly neither Cas nor Dean even registers the movement until the shot rings through the air. They don’t see Lucifer turn away for the slightest second, just long enough for Gabriel to put his guard down. They don’t see the Novak turn back in a moment of Gabe’s weakness and pull the trigger; they don’t see the bullet leave the gun and hit Gabriel straight in the chest. They only hear the shot that shatters the silence and only see Gabe’s body slump over against the wall, his eyes still stuck in that shocked and saddened gaze.   
      
“Gabe!” Cas screams, not even caring that he’s bleeding himself at this point. He practically runs to the place where his brother is slowly fading, his bright and cheerful gaze dulling as his shirt slowly turns crimson.   
      
“I’m calling 911,” Dean says from across the room in a panicky voice, and Cas hears his footsteps retreat out the door.   
      
“…Cas,” Gabriel manages to moan, bringing Cas’ attention back. Gabe is cringing when he tries to move. “…he missed the heart, but I need you to call 911 and run. This is your chance. Get out of here, please. In case I don’t make it-”  
      
“Don’t talk like that,” Cas says desperately, his hands clutching Gabe’s knee for support. “You’re not dying on me, Gabe. I won’t let you.”   
      
“You can’t play God, Castiel. He’s dying and you’re next.”  
      
No. Not now. Cas’ vision is slowly turning red as that monster’s voice assaults his ears. It takes everything in Cas to turn away from his brother and meet his father’s mocking sneer, that sickening weapon still poised in Lucifer’s hand like it is a toy. He doesn’t cringe as his father raises the machine to meet his gaze, aiming it right at Cas’ forehead, because he will not be afraid of his father anymore.   
      
“No, you’re next,” Cas growls through gritted teeth, pushing up from the floor. “Police will be here in a matter of minutes. Whose body are they going to find on the floor, mine or yours?”   
      
Lucifer’s look clouds with his son’s words, and Cas uses that moment of distraction to expertly rip the gun out of his father’s hand and shoot three quick bullets into the man’s abdomen. He doesn’t flinch as the Novak curls over on himself and slides to the cold ground, moaning and clutching his blood soaked clothes.   
      
“CAS!”   
      
Dean’s voice rings out through the hallway as he skids to a stop inside the entrance, a look of pure fear in his eyes. When their gazes meet Dean automatically runs over and pulls Cas into an embrace.   
      
“I thought he shot you!” Dean cries out, his grip tight on Cas’ back. It takes all of Cas’ being not to scream out from the pain throbbing in his shoulder, but he doesn’t want to ruin this little moment with Dean.   
      
“No…,” Cas says uneasily, “I shot him.”  
      
Cas sees the relief fade from those emerald eyes when Dean turns and finds Lucifer’s body sprawled on the ground, eyes open in surprise, the red seeping into his shoes.   
      
“Cas…what did you do?”   
      
“I know, I can’t believe it either.”  
      
Dean leans down and puts two fingers against Lucifer’s neck.   
      
“Believe it or not, he’s still got a faint pulse. He may survive yet even though I’m not wishing for it. But we’ve got to go, Cas. Police are coming fast and they’re going to have lots of questions if they find us at a crime scene.”  
      
He knows Dean is right, but everything seems surreal at the moment. It is like Cas is trying to move through mud, wanting to run but not being able to get past this spot. However when he hears the sirens wailing down the highway, he automatically kicks into action.   
      
“You’re right, but what about Gabe?” Cas asks in a shaky voice. He isn’t about to leave his brother here fighting for his life alone.   
      
“Brother…” Gabe whispers from across the way, his eyes hooded with the pain racking his system. “…Don’t worry…about…me. They’ll find me…and I’ll be…fine.”   
      
Cas turns away from Dean to walk over to his brother, taking in that weary look Gabe is giving him. He crouches down to the floor and gently lays a hand on his brother’s forehead, wishing with all of his might that for one shining moment he could be like one of the angels his mother always talked about when he was a kid, the ones who could heal a man with a single touch. But of course he’s not; he’s just a lovestuck man with too much heart and a violent nature, a man with stars in his heart but blood on his hands, a man who is totally incapable of healing this innocent soul in front of him.   
      
“…Gabe,” Cas gets out in broken cries, the tears running down his cheeks in rivulet rivers. “You don’t deserve this.”      
      
“Doesn’t matter now, does it?” Gabe mumbles quietly, his hands getting redder by the second, the sirens approaching faster than before.   
      
Cas knows that if he wants freedom he will have to leave his brother behind, but he doesn’t know if he can do that.  
      
“I’ll be fine, brother,” Gabriel says loudly, a sliver of strength rushing over him. “And even if I die, I want it to be worth something. Run for me, please. Don’t let me die in vain.”   
      
Cas isn’t trying to hide the sobs anymore. With a gaze blurred with tears he puts a firm hand on his brother's uninjured shoulder, taking in those honey colored eyes for possibly the last time. “I know I’ve never said it before, but I love you, Gabe. And I’ll see you soon, okay?”  
      
Gabriel nods. “Or if not, I’ll see you on the other side.”   
      
“Cas…” Dean says quietly, appearing behind his shoulder, “We’ve got to go now.”  
  
Even though it feels wrong to leave him, Cas can't ignore his brother's wishes. He leans forward and wraps a light hug around his brother, trying not to cry when Gabe grabs him back with more strength than Cas thought he had in him. And when they break the embrace and Cas turns to walk away, he’s filled with a new strength, a new reason to get out of here alive and life that life he deserves.  
      
“You better take good care of my baby brother, Dean,” Gabe calls out when they’re exiting.   
      
Cas only grins when Dean takes his hand and turns around to look at Gabriel. “Of course I will. And Gabe? Thank you. For everything.”  
      
Gabriel smirks back and motions for them to leave. The last thing Cas sees is his brother’s eyes closing as the pain takes over and the red seeps through his hands.   
      
“Good luck, Gabe,” Cas whispers as he leaves his brother and his old life behind.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean has never been happier to see his Baby than right now. His feet slip on the slick grass as he pounds towards the car that will be their safe haven, their way out of this craphole they call a life and into a newer, more peaceful one. However even in the excitement Dean knows they are not out of the woods yet and that the lions are still chasing them, eager to tear them to shreds and eat them for breakfast. It only makes Dean run faster than before and forces him to not waste any time peeling onto the road once both him and Cas are situated in the vehicle.   
      
His breathing is heavy as he exits the Novak mansion and guns the Impala onto the highway, quickly leaving that city he loves behind. As the skyline gets smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror he feels himself relaxing, even turning on the radio to his favorite rock station that is blasting ‘Heat of the Moment’. And even though the car is silent with tension, Dean can’t help himself humming along to the tune, letting his fingers count out the beat on the steering wheel.       
      
“Do you think Gabe will really be okay?” Cas asks after a few minutes, breaking the tense silence in the car.   
      
He turns to find Cas lounged in the passenger seat, but his face is full of worry. Those sapphire eyes he loves are clouded with despair, like a storm is raging and he can’t shake it. And even though he’s trying to be strong, Dean knows Cas well enough to see the brokenness inside, the trauma that must be brewing beneath the surface.   
      
“I’m sure he will be fine,” Dean reassures him, not because he thinks it is true but because he doesn’t believe Cas is looking for honesty right now. Dean knows deep down that Gabriel gave his life for them, that the chances he survived two shots are slim. Dean has seen gunshot wounds lesser than Gabe’s where the person did not live, but he doesn't tell Cas this.   
      
The Novak gives Dean a small smile. “Thanks for humoring me,” he whispers lightly.   
      
Dean just sadly grins back and reaches over to take Cas’ hand in his, interlocking their fingers together in a bind. “Gabe is a fighter; he may pull through.”   
      
“I saw the wounds. I highly doubt it, and even if he does I can never see him again without getting attacked by my family. I guess I can’t even call them family anymore,” Cas replies sadly, gripping Dean’s hand harder with the realization.   
      
It breaks Dean’s heart to see a small tear roll down Cas’ cheek, his throat constricting with the held back sobs. “Sam and I will be your family now, Cas.”   
      
The Novak turns his head to look at Dean with that little confused crease between his eyebrows. “You mean it?”   
      
“Of course, Cas. You and I against the world, taking down whatever comes in our way. That’s the only thing I want.”       
      
“You really are amazing, you know that?” Cas says with a bright smile lighting up his face.   
      
Dean only grins back. “Yeah, I know.”  
      
The two fall into silence once again as the radio starts to play ‘Highway to Hell’. They are about twenty minutes outside of city limits now with no sign of any Novak or Milton on their trail. Everything is too quiet out there, and it makes Dean uneasy. No way they would have let them escape without a pursuit, so where are they? It couldn’t be possible that they are free, could it?  
      
However everything fades into the background once Dean looks over and finds Cas playing air guitar to an ACDC song, lip syncing to the lyrics. He can’t help but laugh at the view; before meeting Dean, Cas had never heard of half of the bands Dean listened to, and now here he is singing along like a lifelong fan. It makes Dean fill with both surprise and happiness; he has a whole life of this ahead of him and that thought only makes him push the car faster down the road until the next suburb is coming into view and the city is well behind them.   
      
“You’re such a dork,” Dean laughs, bringing Cas’ still entwined up to his lips.   
      
The Novak blushes as Dean’s touch, and turns to look out the window. “Shut up; you think I’m adorable, and you’re the one who asked me to run away with you in the night. That has to mean you like me somewhat, right?”  
      
Dean drops their hands to smack Cas upside the head, smiling when that little smirk appears on the Novak’s lips. “Yeah, you’re friggin’ adorable all right. Just remember that on the nights when we’re shoved into a tiny hotel room with Sam and we’re forced to share close quarters. Sure you won’t feel so perky then.”   
      
Cas looks away from Dean to study the road in front of them. “So this is our new life. Cramped motels and shady diners on the highway, all with two Winchesters nonetheless. Never thought my life would end up like this, but you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m so excited, Dean. For the first time in my life I feel like a free man, and you don’t know how liberating it is. No Michael or Balthazar breathing down my neck, no more revenge kills, no more hiding this.”   
      
Dean looks over to find Cas looking at him in such a predatory way he almost pulls over right there, but he quickly remembers that they still have a zonked out Sammy in the backseat who probably wouldn’t want to wake up to Dean and Cas screwing in the front. So instead of taking Cas’ face in his hands and kissing him passionately, he resists and pushes that smirking gaze away while he navigates the road with the other.   
      
“Damn it, Cas. You can’t do that to me when I’m driving!”  
      
The Novak has the nerve to smile seductively back, moving in his seat so that he’s inches away from Dean’s face. “Oh c’mon, you know I wouldn’t pull any moves on you with Sam around. Don’t want to scar him, do we?”  
      
“Please don’t scar me…ow,” a voice chimes from the back.   
      
“Sammy?” Dean calls out as he pulls the Impala towards the side of the highway, turning around to find his brother sitting up and conscious in the back seat. “You okay?”  
      
“I feel like I’ve been run over a thousand times by a truck. What happened?”  
      
And so Dean watches as Cas explains the whole ordeal. The escape, Balthazar’s death, how Sam was knocked out for hours, how Gabriel is probably dead and the Novak patriarch is in pretty bad shape himself. All of it runs out of Cas’ mouth in a river of words, and Dean is absolutely entranced. No wonder Cas got his degree in Literature; the dude is a friggin poet.   
      
When he’s done Sam looks at the Novak with clear pain in his eyes, but it isn’t from his own wounds. “I’m sorry for you losses, Cas. But we’re free now, right? We’re going to be fine. Oh and by the way, where are we headed anyway?”  
      
Dean suddenly realizes that they have no set destination; he was basically just planning on driving until he felt they were far enough away from any Novaks or Miltons. However this brings up the topic as Dean pulls his Baby back unto the road and guns it again, speeding down the highway while Sam and Cas chat about where they should live out their lives. Cas throws out places such as Seattle and even Vancouver, saying crossing the border would be safest for them. However Sam rallies for turning around to head northeast, dreaming about Hoboken and New York. All the while Dean ignores their requests, pulling onto the road that will lead them to Sin City. He knows he’s a good hustler and thinks he could make some money in Vegas for them to live on for a bit, enough so that he can get Sam and Cas the medical attention they need.              
  
Clink.  
      
“Hey…did you guys hear that?” Sam calls out, silencing the car instantly.   
  
_Oh, no._   
      
Headlights appear in the rearview mirror, the car behind them dangerously close.   
      
Clink. Clink.  
      
Dean blinks and suddenly he sees a fissure in the back window, and he knows one more hit will break it.   
      
“Everybody get down!”  
      
Smash. Seconds after the men duck their heads a crash reverberates through the vehicle, a bullet flying through the glass and into the front window. Dean swerves the Impala across three lanes of traffic and hears the ear-splitting squeal of metal hitting metal, the car behind him still making a quick pursuit.   
      
“Can you see who it is?” Cas yells out from the front, his head ducked under the dashboard as best as he can.   
      
“No, but I can guess,” Dean growls. “Doesn’t matter now. We’ve got to lose them, and fast. Everybody better hang on for this.”   
      
He doesn’t hesitate to start driving like an absolute maniac, pretending that this is a scene from a movie and he’s the action star. Its the only way he can cope without panicking, so he turns up the radio as loud as it can go while he gets on and off various highways, driving at least ninety miles per hour. ‘Carry on My Wayward Son’ blasts through the air as the other men hang on for their lives, Cas and Sam clutching the door like it will save them in an accident.   
      
“Are we losing them?” Sam calls out from the back seat, the answer coming to him in the form of another bullet through the window. “Guess not then!”  
      
“We can’t shake them!” Cas screams. “We’ll have to fight back another way.”  
      
When Dean realizes what Cas is suggesting, he automatically pulls him down to his seat. “Cas, you aren’t going to start shooting at them! You could be seriously hurt yourself and I won’t have it!”   
      
“Who are you, my father? You drive, I’ll shoot, Sam will be lookout. You said we were Team Free Will, right? Now let’s act like it!”   
      
Dean doesn’t get to argue before Cas rips himself out of Dean’s grasp and grabs his gun from the dashboard, firing quick and messy shots into the already broken back window. One of them hits the pursuit car and causes it to go skidding across the empty road they’re on, but it doesn’t defer them off course enough. The driver of the other vehicle fires back with even more precision than Cas and easily hits him, the bullet making purchase with Cas’ already injured shoulder. The impact causes the Novak to fall back on the dashboard, the blood already seeping through his fingers.   
      
“Cas?!” Dean screams nervously, losing control of the car for a few seconds. But he only motions for Dean to drive, that he’ll be fine while the blood stains the Impala’s seats.   
      
“We can’t shake them!” Sam calls from the back. “We need another plan!”  
      
“Well I don’t have another plan!” Dean rages back. “We’re losing Cas and I’m out of luck and I don’t know what to do, Sammy!”   
      
“Dean…” Cas whispers from the front, his consciousness slowly fading.   
      
“Cas…hang in there, okay? You’ll be fine.”      
      
“It’s just a flesh wound…” Cas gets out through gritted teeth, and Dean can’t believe this guy is making Monty Python references at a time like this. “It’s not life threatening, but I’ll probably pass out from the pain soon, but I’ve got a plan. Bonnie and Clyde.”  
      
“Wha…what is Bonnie and Clyde?”   
      
“Dean…” Cas is slowly crashing now, his eyes fluttering shut against the pain. “Think about what you said earlier…and if we don’t…make it out of this…I love you, okay?”  
      
“Cas…” Dean whispers desperately, but when he looks away from the road the Novak is already passed out, the grip on his shoulder slack. The only good thing Dean can see is that the bleeding is slowing, but other than that he has no idea what Cas meant by Bonnie and Clyde. Meanwhile the car behind them is gaining in pursuit, and Dean ducks when he hears two more bullets fire from behind him, missing his head only by centimeters.   
      
“Bonnie and Clyde…Bonnie and Clyde!” Sam exclaims from the backseat, jumping up and pulling Dean around to face him. “I know what Cas meant!”  
      
“Then tell me please because I’m still in the dark!”   
      
“Look around us, Dean. Where are we?”   
      
“A friggin highway, where else?”  
      
“Look harder. What are we driving over?”  
      
Dean turns around and really looks at the road they’re on. At first all he sees is concrete and yellow lines, but once he realizes what Sam is saying it all clicks in his head.   
      
Bonnie and Clyde, jumping off the cliff. They’re driving right on an overpass and Cas wants them to dive off it.   
      
…Is he crazy? If they drive off this bridge then they’re dead for sure. But then again, maybe that was Cas’ plan all along? Team Free Will, even in death. It almost seems appealing now, the idea of imminent demise. All the running would be over for a sweet nonexistence, or whatever else awaited them on the other side.   
      
But then Dean realizes something. The road below them is deserted with no cars in sight. The headlights behind them are gaining, more shots are being fired, and this is their only chance to escape the monsters chasing them. If he angles the car in exactly the right way, there is a slight possibility he can land the Impala safely onto the road below. Besides, he grew up watching Starsky and Hutch. He had to be an expert because of that, right?  
      
Time is up. The car behind them is now bumping into the Impala’s backside, and Dean has to decide. Does he risk everyone’s lives for freedom, or does he become a prisoner of the Novaks for life? He turns around to meet his brother’s gaze. Sam clearly realizes what is running through Dean’s mind, and gives him one single head nod.   
      
And that’s all Dean needs to jerk the Impala off the road and into the barrier of the overpass, breaking through the metal barricade to fly over the edge.   
      
Everything moves in slow motion.   
      
 _Carry on my wayward son…_  
      
The song plays eerily in the background as Sam and Dean scream, the feeling of flying gripping Dean’s gut in a vice as the vehicle soars through the atmosphere like an airplane. Dean can only watch as the car flies though the air and makes a slow descent to the abandoned road, clearly heading for a face first nosedive.   
      
 _They’ll be peace when you are done…_  
      
The ground is only inches away from the Impala’s front end, and Dean and Sam brace for impact. Three…two…one…  
      
And bam. The car hits the pavement with a smash and flips over, skidding across the surface with a metallic screech, accompanying the music playing in the background. Dean doesn’t even know which way is up anymore as his head smashes against the ground, his eyes blearing with the coming unconsciousness. Everything is broken glass, metal, and bones; the destruction is encompassing Dean and he doesn’t know how to get out of it.   
      
 _Lay your weary head to rest…_  
      
The car finally rolls to a stop in a ditch on the side of the road after what feels like forever. Dean is dizzy but somehow still alive, but he doesn’t know about the others. His stomach turns at the thought of people finding their bodies in the wreckage.   
      
“Sam…” Dean calls wearily, the pain now taking over his body quickly. “Sammy!”  
      
No response.   
      
“Cas…” he whispers desperately, the tears building in his throat when he gets no answer. “Cas! Answer me!”   
      
Of course all he is greeted with is silence. The only thing Dean can do to keep holding on is shimmy his arm out from under his body to find Cas’ unconscious form. He reaches over and grabs the clearly broken wrist of the man, desperately searching for a pulse. His chest heaves with grief when he finds none.   
      
“Cas,” he gets out through sobs, the darkness starting to fade into his vision. “If you’re still here…I just want you to know I love you, alright? I know I’ve never said it like that but I do, okay? I do.”  
      
The last thing Dean remembers is the flashing lights of police cars coming into his vision, and then everything fades to black.   
      
 _Don’t you cry no more…_


	11. Chapter 11

White.

Everything is white when Cas wakes, his eyes seeing nothing but shimmery brightness as he tries to figure out where he even is. All he can make out are blurry images here and there, nothing concrete enough to give him any clue to where he is or what happened.    

But even though he can’t see, oh can he feel. The pain rushes through his body the moment he comes back into consciousness. It makes him wish that sweet stupor to return to him, to engulf him once again in that brilliant state of nothingness. Cas feels like he’s been run over by a train a thousand times, and the absolute searing agony almost makes him pass out again. He probably would have if his vision didn’t suddenly return to him, his eyes taking in the sterile white hospital room he’s situated in.    

And like a thousand memories rushing into his head at once, Cas remembers everything. The fight, the gunshots, Dean’s hand in his own. The pain, the cloudy unconsciousness, his final instructions to the Winchesters, thinking he was done for. And of course, the last thing he saw before he woke up here. That precious minute where he came out of unconsciousness to see a broken Dean holding his wrist, sobbing out his love for him. He remembers his mind screaming at him to say something, to acknowledge that he is alive, but the inky blackness overtook him before his mouth could find the words. And then a horrifying thought breaks into his consciousness, the machines attached to his pulse whirling with the realization. What if the Winchesters didn’t make it? It would have been his advice that threw them all over the edge, his words that would be responsible for their deaths. His breath quickens and he feels woozy again, the black seeping into his vision as a nurse comes barreling in to the room, checking Cas’ vital signs in a rush.    

“Oh my goodness, you’re awake!” the nurse says brightly. Cas’s eyes whirl until they find the figure in white standing before him, an older, petite Asian woman with a warm smile directed at him. “We thought you would never wake up.”   

“Wha…what day is it?” Cas mumbles, finding it hard to speak the words. It only then occurs to him that he’s hooked up to all different kinds of machines and a breathing tube is preventing him from speaking.    

“Its June 9th, my dear,” she says quietly. “You’ve been in a medicated coma for about a week now at St. Peter’s Advocate Hospital in Rockford. You were admitted last Tuesday.”    

_A week?_   
      
“You’re wounds needed time to heal,” the nurse chimes in again. “You have a broken wrist and several gunshot wounds to the right shoulder, plus you broke quite a few ribs too. It will be awhile before you’re fully functional again, but a nice man has been by quite often to see you the past few days.”   
      
A nice man? Cas’s heart soars with pride. Could it be possible that the Winchesters survived?   
      
“Can I see him?” Cas says, but it comes out in a garbled mess.   
      
“Oh, I’m sorry!” the nurse calls out, coming to remove the breathing tube from his throat.   
      
After a round of heavy coughs, Cas restates his question again. “Can I see this man?”   
      
“Of course. He’s probably in the lobby now. I’ll go get him,” she says, throwing him one last grin before she retreats out the room and Cas is once again alone.   
      
A week. He’s been out a week. Do you know what can happen in a week’s time? Wars have broken out in a weeks time. New laws could have been made. People in Vegas get married and divorced in a weeks time, and Cas missed all of it? His mind just can’t fathom the fact that he’s been out for an entire seven days with no realization.   
But all that fades into the background when the door softly clicks open and a figure steps through. Cas’s heart soars when he sees a pair of boots come through the door frame, but it automatically crashes and burns when he sees who they belong to.   
      
Michael.   
      
His smug brother appears in front of Cas’s bedside, his arms folded over his chest while those trademark Novak blue eyes flash at him. Cas would know those eyes anywhere because he last saw them aiming a gun at him from the pursuit car that fateful night. It makes his blood boil with absolute hatred. How dare his brother land him in the hospital and then have the nerve to visit.   
      
“Get out,” Cas says coldly, harshly. “Get out and leave me alone. You tried to kill me and I don’t want to see your face ever again.”   
      
Michael comes around to Cas’s side and looks at him sadly. “Oh brother, how little you know. If you were aware of my motives I think you would feel different.”   
      
“What motives? Your only motive is to do whatever Father asks of you. Daddy’s blunt little instrument you are.”  
      
“Yes, it was father’s orders that led me to that pursuit, but I wasn’t aiming at you, Castiel. It was the Winchesters he wanted, not you. If anything he only begged that I bring you home to the family so you two could work things out. He just didn’t want to see you make a bad choice, that’s all.”  
      
Cas snorts. “So in order to get me back he sends his only loyal son out to shoot down my friends and drag me back. Yeah, my mind is totally changed now.”      
      
Michael sighs, his eyes clouding over with pain. “Castiel, I only did what I had to. I follow Father’s orders and that is all. He asked for two dead Winchesters and you back home, so I did as he asked.”  
      
“Like a mindless solider? Did you ever stop once and think that this is wrong? Oh wait, I totally forgot. You don’t have one original thought in your body.”  
      
Cas watches as his brother grows angry, his fists clenching together. “You see, Castiel, this is why I’m the one Father always trusts. You and Gabriel let emotions get in your way, but I don’t. I can separate work from feelings, and that makes me the most vital to Father’s plans. I can kill without a second thought while you and Gabe would ponder over the rights and wrongs. It makes me efficient-”  
      
“It makes you a monster,” Cas cuts in angrily. “A psychopathic killer. You are a robot, not a person. And I’m not going home with you after this is all over. I’m leaving with the Winchesters and I don’t care if you chase us to the ends of the earth. I’m not going back to that hellhole we call a home.”   
      
Silence rings through the air with Cas’s words. This is obviously not what Michael expected, and to be honest, Cas didn’t expect this either. He always thought if he had to deal with Michael again all of his bite would fade like old times, his scathing words kept in his mind instead of in his mouth. But there is a fire inside him, an inferno that is burning bright like a beacon and it won’t be held back.   
      
After forever, Michael opens his mouth and speaks. “There is no home to go back to, Castiel. That last act was the final order from Father. He thought he was going to pull through but he died here last Wednesday. Gabriel is no longer with us either. He passed before paramedics could reach him.” He hesitates. “And…I don’t want to be alone. Come back and be my brother, Castiel. We could be the next generation of Novak hitmen, you and I. A new frontier.”   
      
Cas can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You want me to forgive you for trying to kill me and my friends and come back home? The place where I was trying to escape from? No way in hell, Michael.”   
      
His brother looks on with him with weary eyes. “Then where will you go, brother?   
      
“Wherever the Winchesters go. They’re my family now.”  
      
Michael looks down at his brother with a knowing gaze, one that sets Cas on edge. He knows something Cas doesn’t.   
      
“Oh Castiel…you must not know. If you leave with the Winchesters it will be with only one. The younger one- Sam is it?- is recovering nicely in immediate care as we speak. But Dean…” Michael trails off.   
      
Cas’s heart starts to pound against his chest. He can’t mentally prepare himself fast enough before the words slap across his face.  
      
“…Dean Winchester is dead.”   
      
No. No way in hell his Dean is dead. Nope. Michael is a dirty liar who is trying to manipulate him. No it can’t be true, because a world without Dean Winchester in it is a travesty, an abomination, and Castiel Novak will not have it.   
      
“You’re a dirty liar,” Cas says harshly. “Get out of my sight.”   
      
“I know the news is hard to take, Castiel, but it is true.”     Cas huffs out a breath. “No, I don’t believe you for a second.”     Michael sighs heavily. “I can get his death certificate if you want. I can find a doctor to break the news to you himself. I can even wheel Sam Winchester down here if you deeply desire it, but I don’t think you want to see a man that broken right now.”    
      
Everything in Cas’s mind goes into a frenzy, his heart monitor running off the charts. All he can think of is the word no. No, no no. No, no, no no no no. A chorus of “no’s” running together until the word is visualized in his imagination, blocking his vision. He can feel himself crashing, falling apart, but he holds on to that small bit of hope, that tiny piece of him that thinks Michael is a liar.   
      
“What is going on here?” the nurse says as she rushes in, the same Asian lady from before. When she sees Cas in his state, she just shakes her head. “He told you about your friend, I see. I’m so sorry for your loss.”  
      
And with that, Cas’s last bit of hope crumbles. Everything is in a flurry as the nurse tries to calm him down, but Cas is completely unhinged, his breathing heavy and his sobs loud and angry. He tries to scream, but he doesn’t get the chance before the nurse hits a button and he slides once again into that inky blackness, welcoming the unconsciousness with open arms.   
      
He doesn’t see when a familiar face with freckles and eyes like emeralds walks into the room to look over his body. He doesn’t feel the man lean down to leave one soft featherlight kiss on his forehead, and doesn’t hear him walk out with silent tears running down his face. 

* * *

  
**One Year Later**   


  
It took Cas two weeks to be released from the hospital, mostly from the psychological break that happened after the news of Dean’s death. The doctors were concerned when Cas wouldn’t respond to them those first few days after, only blinking and staring at the wall ahead of him. The doctors threw around words like psychiatric ward and mental hospital, but after Cas got the jist of what they had planned for him he snapped out of it, trying to prove to the doctors that he was completely stable. It took a lot of acting, but eventually the doctors released him with orders for bed rest and lots of fluids, saying he could go if he lived with someone who could keep an eye on him.   
      
And that’s how he ends up here in a coffee shop in Portland, Oregon, sipping Chai tea while editing a new manuscript for his boss. It doesn’t reach his mind that a year has already passed since Dean’s death, the anniversary occurring in a few days time. And yet even though it was a tragedy and Cas would never forget the first man he ever loved, still loved, he finally felt like he had moved on. It makes him smile, because there were days when he didn’t think that possible, and he looks up from his work to reminisce for a bit.

  
  
_The doctors came to him one afternoon with a verdict. He could either go to a mental hospital for rehabilitation or find someone to live with and look after his well being. He knew his options were limited after the fallout with Michael and his cousins, but there was still one person he knew he could trust. His lifelong friend Meg Masters was more than happy to pick up the broken pieces of Castiel and pull him back together, and it only took one call to get her on a redeye plane to Chicago. When her face came through that door with his release papers in tow, it was the first time Cas had smiled in weeks._  
  
 _But of course, that little bout of happiness that came with Meg’s presence couldn’t last. Once she got him back to Portland he easily sank back into his sadness, only coming out of his room those first few weeks to do the bare minimum essentials such as eating and showering. He knew he should get out there, explore the new city that is his home, but it was like an anchor was tied to his chest, pulling him down to the bottom of his sorrow until he didn’t know if he could even stand up straight anymore. Everything he did reminded him of Dean, from the Vonnegut books on his floor to the ACDC songs that came up on his iPod. Even when he tried to put any thought of the Winchester out of his mind, it came back in seconds. The man haunted him like a ghost, whispering memories and old conversations into Cas’s ear._  
  
 _He was broken, lost. Dean had become such a part of himself it was like a piece of him died too, crumbling away into the earth. It felt like he was being pulled underground, and everyday he had to claw to the surface. He was suffocating under the grief and he had no clue how to cope with it. That is, until his phone rang one day and Sam Winchester was on the other end of the line._  
  
 _At first Cas didn’t answer when the phone chimed, letting it go to voicemail over and over again. It wasn’t until the fifth straight sequence of rings that Cas finally answered the call reluctantly._  
  
 _“What do you want, Sam?” Cas said, more harshly than he intended._  
  
 _“Hello to you too, Cas,” Sam replied back, his voice biting and heavy. “Way to answer your phone after a thousand tries.”_  
  
 _“Sorry if I’m not in the mood to talk; if you haven’t noticed we both lost someone close to us only a week ago. Not really in the mood for conversation.”_  
  
 _“Cas…” Sam began, but Cas didn’t want to hear the sympathy speech._  
  
 _“Give it a rest, Sam. Don’t tell me everything is going to be okay, because its not. Dean’s dead and there is nothing I can do about it. It was my fault-”_  
  
 _“Hey!” Sam interrupted, “Don’t talk like that. It wasn’t your fault and you know it. I was just calling to see if you would be willing to talk to me face to face. I got word that you moved to Portland after the accident so I came to visit you. Just thought we both could use a friend right now.”_  
  
 _Cas thought it over. Was he ready to see the brother of his dead lover? Sam loved Dean too, and possibly it would be good to get all of this off sinking darkness off his chest with someone who understood._  
  
 _“Fine,” Cas agreed wearily. “I’ll meet up with you. Where are you at?”_  
  
 _“Outside your friend’s apartment.”_  
  
 _“How did you…”_  
  
 _“I can’t explain right now,” Sam said, and Cas senses a bit of falseness in his tone. “Just come downstairs and we’ll go somewhere to chat.”_  
  
 _And so Cas did just that. He hung up and tried to look halfway decent, pulling on a pair of khakis and a worn out Bears t-shirt with his good side. His entire right body was bandaged up from the gunshot wounds and his wrist was in a cast, which only made him look even more broken. He looked in the mirror but didn’t try to fix the disarray that was his hair. With a tight breath, Cas pulled on his shoes and descended the steep staircase of Meg’s apartment building, and found Sam Winchester leaning against the reception desk._  
  
 _He thought he tried pretty hard to look normal, but one glance from Sam says otherwise._  
  
 _“Dude…you’re a wreck. And is that a Cheeto stain on your shirt?”_  
  
 _Cas looked down. Well there goes to put together routine. “I feel like a wreck, Sam,” he replied. “I can’t hide that no matter how hard I try. Don’t you feel the same?” He noticed that for just losing his brother, the Winchester looked pretty well put together._  
  
 _“I’m trying not to think about it,” Sam whispered in a sad tone, but his eyes lacked that harbored sadness Cas thought he would see. What was up with him?_  
  
 _“So…where shall we go?” Cas asked in a formal tone. Even though he’d conversed with the Winchester many times before, they still didn’t have the easy friendship like him and Dean had._  
  
 _“I saw a nice looking bookstore right down the road with some couches inside. Wanna head over?”_  
  
 _Cas managed to pull up a smile even though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Sure.”_  
  
 _And so they went and spent the entire afternoon talking about everything and anything. What Sam’s plans were now that he was away from the hitman life, if Cas was ever going to pursue a job, where Sam should go now that he isn’t tied to Chicago anymore. The only blatant omission from their talks was Dean, the two playing chicken with the name, neither of them bringing it up. It took them an hour and a half for Sam to finally come forward and just blurt it out, getting the wound out into the open._  
  
 _“Cas, how are you really doing without Dean?”_  
  
 _He hesitated, not knowing how much he should let on. “I’m okay.”_  
  
 _But of course Sam didn’t buy it. “No, you’re not.”_  
  
 _That’s all it took for Cas to break down the walls, whispering harshly into the quiet air. “You know what? Fine. I’m not anywhere near okay. I feel like a part of me has been ripped out of my chest and I can never get it back. I’m in pain and it isn’t from the wounds I’m still suffering from. He’s gone, Sam, and I don’t know what to do without him. I’m alone and lost and I don’t have the slightest clue of where to go from here. The only thing I know is that I have to stay alive. Nothing else matters now. But yet-,” Cas waited, eyeing the Winchester with a tight stare- “you seem to be coping just fine. What’s up with that?”_  
  
 _He automatically wished he could take it back when Sam shot him a dark glance._  
  
 _“Do you think I’m not grieving? I lost a brother, Cas! Do you think I’m not broken by that? Dean was the best man I knew, still is. Its been a week and I still look back and expect to see his face behind me. They wanted to crush the Impala but I made them release it back to me because I couldn’t bear the thought of that damn car being destroyed. I’ve got my Uncle Bobby working day and night to fix that car because its the closest thing I have to Dean, even though half the time it smelled like old fast food and I begged Dean to get rid of it. I see him in everything I do even though I’m thousands of miles away from where he died, so don’t tell me I’m not grieving.”_  
  
 _Cas didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”_  
  
 _Sam breathed heavily, his mouth set in a hard line. “Maybe this was too soon to meet up. I think I have to go now, get some space from all of this. But I think I’m staying in the area, so would you mind getting together with me soon when I’m more prepared to talk about this?”_  
  
 _Cas only nodded. “Of course. I think we both need more time apart. You really do remind me of Dean a lot, Sam. It’s a bit overpowering right now.”_  
  
 _“And you remind me of the better man he became when he met you. Its a bit too fresh. I’ll give you a call okay?” Sam said with a sad smile on his face._  
  
 _Cas agreed quickly. “Of course. See you around, Sam.”_  
  
 _The Winchester only gave him one quick salute before walking out the doors. Cas hasn’t seen the Winchester since._  
  
  
 _Weeks passed after his meeting with Sam, and Cas wasn’t getting any better. The days were getting longer, summer was finally here, but he didn’t feel any joy. Instead he spent the days in his room with the blinds closed, ignoring every call from the Winchester. Eventually they stopped all together._  
  
 _It wasn’t until Meg dragged him out of the house one day that he saw how badly his appearance had become. The rings around his eyes were shadowed like a raccoon’s, and he hadn’t shaved in weeks. His hair was in disarray and he probably smelled like beer and Fritos, the only food he had been consuming._  
  
 _“Do you see what you’re doing to yourself?” Meg yelled at him when they stepped into the fresh summer air. “You’re killing yourself over someone who has been dead for months! Now you can be sad about it and grieve, but don’t for one second think your pity party is beautiful like those sappy novels you read. If you don’t live, then what did Dean die for, huh?”_  
  
 _Of course he didn’t want to hear it, but he couldn’t deny that Meg was right. Dean would have wanted Cas to live his life, and he imagined the look on Dean’s face if he saw Cas in this state. It is that look alone that fueled Cas into action, going out with Meg to buy him new clothes and belongings. Meg encouraged Cas to get as much of Dean’s influence out of his life as possible, saying that if he didn’t start fresh he could only dwell on the past and not the future. Cas used the little money he had to buy a stack of new t-shirts and jeans, and Meg chipped in to buy him a nice suit for work interviews._  
  
 _A few weeks later, Cas landed a job at an editing company in the city. A few months later and Cas was promoted from proofreader to junior editor, even meeting with clients to discuss new books the company was interested in. And without even really trying, Cas suddenly realized he was honestly happy with his life, and even though the absence of Dean stung like a part of him was missing at times, he had learned to get along without the Winchester by his side. Of course he would always miss him, that was a given, but for the first time Cas felt like he could live his life without the constant reminder of Dean’s absence haunting him, the guilt that Cas is responsible for Dean’s demise slowly fading until it is only a shadow in the past._  
  
      
Cas thinks about all of this while he peruses over the new book he’s pitching tomorrow to his boss, a fantasy novel about two brothers who hunt monsters for a living. The story is written by a newbie to the author world, a strange guy named Carver Edlund whom Cas has met a few times. The whole concept it a bit cheesy to him but he reads on anyway, getting lost in how the author phrases words like a symphony, the writing so fluid he can’t help but be pulled in.   
      
When he gets to a chapter break Cas looks up to take a drink from his coffee, but the mug freezes halfway to his lips when his eyes lock with a man standing outside the glass windows, a man Cas knows too well and never thought he would see again. Emerald eyes framed by dark lashes stare back at him, the face covered in familiar freckles.   
      
He doesn’t even feel the mug leave his hands until he hears it crack against the wooden table. Doesn’t even notice the barista rush over to clean up his mess. Doesn’t notice anything but the hallucination in front of him, because it has to be a hallucination. But even when he tries to blink a thousand times in a row, the man before him doesn’t disappear before his eyes. The figure walks forward and into the door, and before Cas knows it the man is standing right before him.   
      
This can’t be real; it has to be a dream, so Cas voices the only question that pops into his thoughts.   
      
“…Dean?”


	12. Chapter 12

If there was one thing Dean has learned over this past year it is that faking your own death is hard. Really hard. Like imagine the hardest thing you’ve ever done and then multiply it hard, especially when the only way you can survive it is living only a few blocks away from the person you’re hiding from. But all of that led up to this moment, and when he looks at Cas the past year slides away because Dean knows he’s staring at his future.      
  
At least he hopes so. He is standing outside an upscale coffee shop in Portland, the place Cas’s friend Meg pointed him to when he showed up at her door like a ghost. He expected her to get angry, scream and rant about how stupid his plan was, but she didn’t. Instead she smiled, whispered “If this hurts him in any way shape or form, I will end you Dean Winchester,” into his ear, and sent him on his way.      
  
Now here he is, looking at the man he left behind. Its like the past year didn't happen when he gazes at Cas’s figure through the window, his head cradled in his hand as he peruses over a manuscript or something. He’s dressed in a navy suit that makes him look professional and official, and his hair is greased back out of his face. He looks ten years older, little crinkles appearing at his eyes when he smiles down at the page. He looks weathered, more experienced, and nothing like the guy in the ACDC shirt Dean knew from before. How much has Cas changed over the past year?      
  
The thought makes Dean stop in his tracks, and he starts to remember the past weeks without Cas at his side.

* * *

_The room was a brilliant white when consciousness found him again. The TV was on the background, flashing images of his totaled Baby on the screen. Once he realized a reporter was talking, he tried to focus in on the words being said._   
  
_“The car was found at 4:56 this morning with three passengers inside. The three victims have not been identified, but they have all been transported to St. Peter’s Advocate Hospital in Rockford in critical condition. Paramedics say that the victims will have a long recovery but should be okay at the end of the day. There is still no insight as to what caused the crash. Darrell Williams reporting from Freeport; back to you, Johanna.”_   
  
_The image on the screen flashed back to a blonde woman behind a news anchor desk, but turned black before Dean could hear her closing remarks on the story. It was only then that he realized he wasn’t alone in the room._   
  
_“Tragic story, isn’t it? Three men get crushed in a freak accident and no one knows what caused it. Everyone is probably calling around now trying to figure out who the vics are. But of course at the end of the day, they think you three will be just fine. A true story of heroism in my book.”_   
  
_Dean’s blood boiled as that too familiar voice assaulted his ears. He turned his head to find Michael Novak sprawled out on one of the floral armchairs, his lips turned up in an arrogant smirk. His arms were folded over his chest as he took Dean in with his trademark Novak blue eyes, the stare making Dean’s stomach turn._   
  
_“What are you doing here?” Dean said gruffly, his voice sounding raw to his own ears._   
  
_Michael got up from his seat and walked over to Dean’s bed, playing with the tubes attached to Dean’s arm. “Can’t I be concerned for my brother’s dirty little lover? You could have gotten everyone in that car killed, you know.”_   
  
_“I knew the risks. Seemed worth it to get away from your family. Doesn’t explain why you’re stalking my hospital room like a leech though.”_   
  
_Michael sighed. “I’m here to strike up a deal with you, Winchester. You are in a pretty precarious situation right now so I would suggest you listen carefully. I don’t like you with Cas, plain and simple. He deserves someone better than Winchester filth, and my father thought so too. His last instruction to me was to end you and your brother and bring Cas back into the family, and I failed in that task. So instead of ripping this IV out and shooting you right here, I have a proposition for you. An understanding, if you will.”_   
  
_Dean immediately tensed at the words and avoided that predatory gaze that swept over him. “What kind of deal? I don’t work with Novaks.”_   
  
_“No, you just screw them,” Michael said bitingly. “And we won’t be working together. In fact, in this deal I will never see you or your brother again if all goes to plan.”_   
  
_“Then just spit it out, Novak. What do you want from me?”_   
  
_Michael grinned and leaned against Dean’s bed, digging into the IV attached to his arm. Of course that Novak only smiled bigger when he saw Dean’s discomfort. “I want what is best for Castiel, of course. He’s my little brother and I would do anything to keep him safe. You hinder that, Winchester. With you around Castiel is going to get hurt, one way or another. Admit it, Dean. You’re poison. People around you fall apart and you know it. First your mother, then your father. How many times has Sam been hurt fighting your battles, and now Cas is taking hits for you too. You’re toxic, Winchester, and I don’t want my brother being around that type of environment._   
  
_“And with that, I give you my proposal. Of course I think this is what is best, but at the end of the day it all comes down to Castiel and what he wants. But before we barge into his room and make him choose a side, I want to experiment a bit. I am proposing that we give him a year of separation to figure things out for himself. Let him roam his options, let him see what life is like in the real world without such a toxic person in his life. I think it would do him good, and I am sure you think so too.”_   
  
_Dean’s mind raced. This wasn’t what he was expecting when he woke up to Michael in his room. And even though he didn’t want to agree, Michael wasn’t wrong. Dean knew deep in his soul that he was poison. People around him got hurt, simple as that. Even though he never spoke of it, he partially blamed himself for his mother’s death. Not arguing with her longer when she insisted she go on the stakeout with him and John. Not making her stay behind in the Impala to protect her. Not sensing the argument getting messy between John and Lucifer before it was too late. Not doing anything as he saw his mother’s blonde head sprint out of the alley, running between her husband and the bullet that was meant for his heart. He always thought if he was stronger, if he was better, she could still be alive right now._   
  
_And then his thoughts raced ahead to a more recent memory, Sam tied up in the Milton’s basement all battered and bloody. That wouldn’t have happened if Dean realized that his relationship with Cas was selfish, and that somebody was bound to find out one way or another. If he just left Cas alone right when he found out his last name none of this would have happened. It made his stomach turn to think that he ultimately the cause of all of this chaos, the reason both Sam and Cas are unconscious somewhere in this building. But of course it is his fault; when isn’t it?_   
  
_“I can see you know I’m right, so let’s move on. You leave Castiel alone for a year to figure things out for himself. If after that year my brother is foolish enough to take you back, then fine. I won’t interfere even if I think it is horribly destructive. I’m not the monster you think I am, Dean. I just want what is best for my brother because no one else seems to care what happens to our Castiel.”_   
  
_Dean gave Michael a deadpan stare, trying not to let on how much his words were affecting him. “And if I refuse?”_   
  
_Michel sighed. “Dean…why are you doing this? We both know you think this is right too. But if you must know… if you refuse and you three try to run away again I will track all of you down, and will not hesitate to take you and your brother out. I suggest you give me what I want now so you don’t have to deal with me later. I think my request is quite simple, and you would be wise to heed it.”_   
  
_His mind raced, the gears turning in his head. He hated to admit that the Novak made a good point, but he did. The past 24 hours had been a blur of motion, and Cas never got a long time to sit down and think about what running away with Dean would mean. Maybe a little time apart would do them both good…_   
  
_“Tick tock, Winchester. What do you say? Will you accept my offer?”_   
  
_Dean ground his teeth together, hating the words coming out of his mouth. “Fine. We have a deal, Michael.”_   
  
_The Novak smiled back like a lion stalking its prey. “Excellent.”_   
  
_“I don’t like this, you know. And its no use anyway. Cas and I will find each other; we always do. This separation is nothing, you know. It will only make us stronger, help us love grander. You could be helping us, Novak.”_   
  
_“Then more power to you, I suppose. But we will just see how this goes when I break the news to Cas that you’re dead.”_   
  
_Dean’s blood ran cold. “Excuse me? We had a deal, Novak! You don’t kill me or my brother if-”_   
  
_“Oh calm down and let me explain myself. This won’t work if Cas knows you can come back at any time. We need him to believe that you’re dead so he can grieve and move on, see what life is like without you. And when he realizes how toxic you are, I am sure he will join the Novak cause against the Winchesters once again.”_   
  
_Dean stared back at Michael with pure ice in his eyes. He hated the Novak in that moment, hated that his plan actually made sense, hated that he was going to go through with this even though it went against Cas’s trust and well being. But at the end of the day, he knew what Michael said was true. Cas needed that space, and he was not going to let Dean go unless he thought he was gone for good._   
  
_“Fine,” Dean said bitingly. “How are we going to do this then? Bury me in the ground and dig me out? Get a fake gravestone so Cas can weep over my body that isn’t there? Your plan better be solid if I’m going through with this, Michael.”_   
  
_The Novak leaned in towards Dean’s ear and whispered his response. “I already have all the forms in order. Better work on a new alias because Dean Winchester is officially deceased.”_   
  
_“And how did you manage to work that out before I agreed to any of this?”_   
  
_Michael smiled harshly. “Let’s just say you were ending up dead today one way or another.”_   
  
_Dean shivered at the words, but shook them off. The deal was done. Dean Winchester was no longer._   
  
_“I’ve got friends in this place who worked everything out. As far as anyone is concerned a Dean Winchester didn’t check in here this morning, but a Dean Smith did. Welcome to you new life, Winchester. Or should I say Smith now?” Michael looked at Dean with those icy eyes of his. “The nurses will address you with your new last name, so don’t slip up. I’m not going to cover for you if you blow this.”_   
  
_As if on cue, a bright eyed blonde woman knocked on his door, smiling hugely when she saw Dean sitting up and alert in his bed. Michael only gave him one last wink before he bowed out of the room, leaving a tiny piece of paper on his bedside table._   
  
_While the blonde woman was occupied, Dean leaned over and grabbed the paper on his nightstand. An address was scribbled in messy handwriting on the page, along with a message:_   
  
_1940 Wayward St._   
_Porland, OR 97001_   
  
_This is where Meg Masters lives. If I know Cas like I think I do she is who he will call after all of this is over. I don’t have much hope of him coming home with me. Go there a year from now and find him. Also I will know if you try to see him before then. I’ve got eyes everywhere, Winchester. I wish you the best of luck._   
_-Michael L. Novak_   
  
_Dean sighed heavily as the nurse looked over his vitals quickly and checked his charts._   
  
_“Well, it looks like we can discharge you in a few days Mr…Smith, is it?”_   
  
_Dean grinned but it clearly didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. That’s me.”_

* * *

  
_Dean was discharged three days later from the hospital, but he couldn’t get himself to stray far from the premises. He liked to lie to himself and say that it was only because Sam was still in the rehabilitation center and wouldn’t be discharged for a few more days, but he knew the real reason. Even though he agreed with the plan, knew that it was going to keep Cas safe from all the terrors that came from running with the Winchesters, he still couldn’t get himself to walk away. Every day he would casually stroll by the window, discreetly looking in to see if the doctors have allowed Cas to emerge from his medicated coma yet. Every day he would check on him, just to make sure he was alright. And on the day Sam got discharged and was released from the hospital, Dean was ready to walk away and let Cas figure things out for himself. He just needed one last goodbye first._   
  
_He wasn’t planning on staying long, but he needed at least one last look at Cas to make sure he was doing the right thing. Dean strolled through the recovery unit while Sam was getting his papers in order, snaking through the labyrinth of hallways until he reached the room he knew so well. He quickly peeked inside to make sure no one was around before he quietly entered._   
  
_Cas was a wreck, and the past week hadn’t healed him enough for Dean’s liking. The right side of his body was covered in plaster and his face had vicious red scratches running down it. His eyes fluttered in his sleep and Dean had to admit he looked absolutely angelic in the setting; the fading light from the window radiated on Cas’s face like a halo._   
  
_Dean thought about this moment for a long time, but now that it was here he didn’t know what to say. He just stared down at that broken face, the one with all of the cuts and bruises on it. He told himself that he had to go or else this would happen again. He couldn't bear the thought of Cas being in danger, couldn’t imagine Cas getting hurt because of him. And yet that is exactly what would happen if Dean was around. Michael was right; Dean is poison and Cas in this hospital bed is proof. If Dean had the good sense to leave when he knew Cas was a Novak, left the family lines at bay, Cas would have never gotten hurt. He would still be safe, would probably be a hotshot at an editing firm right now. But instead he was here, bandaged and bleeding. He was here because Dean was selfish and greedy, and the only way Dean could make up for Cas’s pain was to do the most unselfish thing he could think of._   
  
_He knew time was running out, but he couldn’t help but gaze down at that face with adoration. Cas had always been like the sun to him, a bright orb of light that warmed him to the core. Now he had to walk away from the light, confine himself to the icy moon that is a life without the Novak at his side. The only way he got himself to walk away was the loud rumbling of a cart being pushed down the hall._   
  
_Time’s up. Dean pulled his eyes away from Cas with a start and made his way to the door, but stopped cold when he heard a light rustling from the sheets behind him. But when he turned around it was just Cas moving in his sleep, his head now turned towards the window with his hair tousled in his face._   
  
_He sighed heavily, unexpected water springing to his eyes. Without thinking twice Dean walked over and lightly pushed the flyaway hair from Cas’s face. Just his hand on the Novak’s forehead made his throat clench and he felt salty tears run down his cheeks, dripping onto his lips._   
  
_“Goodbye, Cas. See you soon.”_   
  
_And with one last kiss to the man’s forehead, Dean turned away with sobs in his throat and walked out the door._

* * *

_He managed to compose himself before he walked back into the waiting room, but apparently not enough. Sam awaited him as he strolled through the double doors with a huge smile on his face, even though he was still bandaged like a mummy in several places on his body. But that big goofy grin of his faded when he took in Dean._   
  
_“Dude, what happened to you?” he asked. “You look worse than me and I’m the one who took all of the damage.”_   
  
_Oh little brother, if you only knew._   
  
_“Nothing’s wrong with me, Sammy,” Dean said lightly, but he cringed when his voice broke and gave him away._   
  
_“Dean…”_   
  
_“I’ll explain everything. Let’s just get out of here okay?”_   
  
_Sam didn’t argue. “Okay.”_   
  
_The walk to the Impala was quiet, and the car ride out of the city was even quieter. Dean knew he had to tell Sam everything, knew that he deserved that much after all that he’d put his brother through, but he couldn’t get himself to think about Cas, let alone say his name in a conversation. Somehow Sam must have understood this because he sat quietly as Dean muttered at traffic._   
  
_It wasn’t until they crossed the Iowa border that Sam finally spoke up._   
  
_“So…are you going to tell me what is going on?”_   
  
_Dean didn’t look at his brother as he spoke. “It’s a long story, brother.”_   
  
_Sam smiled. “I think I’ve got the time.”_   
  
_And so Dean told Sam the entire story, starting back with Michael in the hospital room. He didn’t know how long he babbled on for, but Sam heard every word. By the time he explained the situation and how his relationship with Cas is on the line, Dean had to pull over because he couldn’t see through the tears stinging his eyes. Damn that Novak, he thought. Damn that man whom he loves, the one who makes tough guy Dean Winchester break down into tears. Damn this whole thing._   
  
_“And I…don’t know if he will want me…after…” Dean broke down, lightly tapping his forehead against the steering wheel repeatedly._   
  
_“Hey, hey hey!” Sam called out, scooting over in the car to tuck Dean’s body into his own. “It’s going to be okay, Dean. It’s going to be fine. You two are meant to be together and this won’t change a thing. Will Cas be angry? Hell yeah he will. But will you two work it out? Hell yeah you will. You two love each other, right?”_   
  
_Dean nodded his head into Sam’s shoulder, like he did when they were kids. He couldn’t believe that his little brother was the one comforting him. Wasn’t it always supposed to be the other way around?_   
  
_“Then you two will make it through this. That’s what love is all about. Trust me, when Jess and I fought it sometimes felt like the world was falling to pieces around us, but we always got through it. Cas and you will too. Dean, look at me.”_   
  
_He managed to look up into his brothers eyes, the butterflies in his stomach calming when Sam threw him a loving gaze._   
  
_“You will be fine. We will be fine. We’ll get through this, okay?”_   
  
_Dean smiled back at his brother through the tears. “Okay.”_   
  
_Sam grinned, shoving away from Dean with a pat on his shoulder. “Its only a year. A love like yours will withstand it. Now…where are we going exactly?”_   
  
_He pushed the remaining wetness from his eyes and pulled back onto the interstate. “Portland, I guess.”_

* * *

  
That was 365 days ago exactly. A whole year without Cas at his side, a whole year feeling like part of himself was missing, and now everything is coming to a head. He just hopes that Sam is right, that Cas will take him back despite everything they’ve been through. And now it is the moment of truth.  
      
Dean stares through the window of the coffee shop intently, not making a move. He’s waiting for Cas to look up from that damn book in his nose to see him through the glass, for those sapphire eyes to light up with recognition. He’s waiting…and waiting…and damn it Cas, how long does it take to read a chapter?  
      
But when it happens and Cas stares back at Dean through the window, it is like a fire exploding in his soul. Those eyes locking with his pull him in like before, and it takes all of Dean’s strength not to just run into the door and scoop the Novak up in his arms. The seconds pass slowly as Dean makes his way into the shop and nearly knocks over three tables in the process, not looking at anything or anyone besides Cas. And when he approaches and stands before the Novak, he honestly doesn’t know what to say. How do you explain a year long absence to your love?  
      
Luckily for Dean, Cas breaks the tension filled silence first. “…Dean?”  
      
He grins back hugely, stepping into Cas’s space. “Hey, Cas.”      
      
“Oh sweet god above,” Cas whispers, his hands shaking. “I’m hallucinating. I’ve finally snapped and lost it.”  
      
“No, Cas. It’s really me. I’m real. I’m here, can’t you see that?”  
      
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” he mutters under his breath, eyes wheeling around the room. He stands up abruptly and starts walking aimlessly around the empty coffee shop, getting quite the stare from the barista behind the counter. “I need to get out of here.”  
      
“Cas, listen to me!” Dean calls out, reaching over to grab his arm. The touch makes Cas stop in his tracks and turn around in a split second, throwing Dean quite the confused gaze. “You feel that touch? I’m here, Cas. It’s me, the same Dean from a year ago.”  
      
Cas’s lower lip starts to wobble, tears starting to sting his eyes. “Dean?”  
      
“Hi, Cas. Surprise, right?”  
      
Oops. Those were definitely not the right words to say. Cas’s composure immediately shifts to anger; his eyes turn to pure ice and he grips the nearest table tightly, eyeing Dean with a look of distain. “Dean Winchester, are you telling me that you let me live a year of my life thinking you were dead? Thinking that you were buried in a ground somewhere, decaying into nothing?”  
      
“Cas…”  
      
“No, Dean! You don’t get to talk right now,” he says coldly, that gaze punching Dean in the gut with force. “You get to sit and listen while I tell you exactly what I went through. I thought you were dead. Michael showed me your damn death certificate for goodness sakes! Sam showed up at my doorstep and told me you were gone. I thought I would never see you again and I mourned you for a damn long time, Dean. I was really messed up for months after I learned of your fate, but Meg got me through it. I got a job, learned to live life without you even though it killed me inside, and now that I’ve got my life together you come back from the dead and expect me to just jump into your arms like Allie did to Noah?”  
      
“Actually I’m pretty sure that didn’t happen…”  
      
“Dean! This isn’t the time to discuss what happened in The Notebook!” Cas exclaims, and Dean would have laughed if the situation was different. “You lied to me. You let me think you were gone and you let me suffer. I’m sorry, but just showing back up in my life isn’t going to cut it. I’m not the same guy you left behind all those months ago.”  
      
“Damn it, Cas! Can I at least explain myself first? Why I did it? Do you think this wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? Lying to you wasn’t fun, Cas. Living blocks away from you but not being able to see you killed me inside. But I did what I had to. I’m sorry, but it was the only way to protect you.”  
      
“Wait..what are you talking about? Protect me from who?”  
      
“From Michael, that’s who! He’s the one who made me do this. He gave me an option to either fake my own death and then return to you in a year, or else he would have hunted us all down until we were dead. Of course I took the first option; I had to protect you and that was the only way I knew how. And I know you shouldn’t take me back, that I’m poison in your life, but please know that I love you and would have run back to you in an instant if I ever found a way around Michael’s little game.”  
      
Cas stays silent as he looks over at Dean, his mouth set into a hard line. “You’re not poison, Dean. You’re the least poisonous thing in my life, but you are too self sacrificing for your own good, you know that? You think I’m paper that can rip at a moment’s notice, that I need protecting because I like books and don’t endorse violence but I can really take care of myself. We could have outrun Michael, and if he caught up with us I would have ended him. This could have all been avoided if you truly saw me for who I am. Don’t you see me, Dean? I killed my cousin for you, ran away from home for you. I did this, all of it, for you, and in return you abandon me for a year?”  
      
Dean stares down at the floor because looking at Cas has become too difficult to bear. “I'm sorry again Cas, but we can fix this-,”  
      
“Dean, it isn’t broken.”  
      
His head shoots up like an arrow, taking in that sad smile on Cas’s face. “Wait…what?”  
      
Cas walks forward and lays a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and the touch is like a live wire running through his system. “This, you and me, it isn’t broken. Am I mad? Of course. You lied to me and put me through hell, and the logical part of me says to leave you here and never look back, but love doesn’t work that way. I’m still in love with you, Dean. That didn’t change over this past year, and that fact that I’m here touching you is something I never thought I would be able to do again. Like hell if I’m going to let that go.”  
      
Dean’s eyes brighten up and he tentatively puts his hand on Cas’s cheek. “So…you forgive me? You still love me?”  
      
The Novak sighs, those lips Dean loves so much curling up into a playful smile. “Forgive you? That will take some time. Love you? I never stopped and never will.”  
      
With his heart beating loudly in his chest Dean watches as Cas closes the space between them and presses his warm lips to his. Fire explodes in his stomach as they fall into their familiar embrace, Dean’s hand caressing Cas’s face while Cas traces lines and constellations onto Dean’s back. And in that moment they don’t care who sees, don’t even remember that they are in a public place and that they are probably being less than respectable. Everything is Cas in Dean’s mind, and he knows that he is finally home.  
    
When they break apart for air seconds later, Dean is flushed and thrumming with energy. “Do you want to get out of here?” he says huskily, his voice dripping with undisguised desire.  
      
Cas pushes away with a laugh and grabs Dean’s hand, interlacing their fingers in an unbreakable bind. “Yeah, Winchester. Let’s go home.”  
      
                                                                                                                 The End  


**Author's Note:**

> Note:


End file.
